r 


I 

r; 


* 






FT MEfiDE 

GenCol 1 


■ f\ f, 

I i I , ' 1*. 


I ' f'.*. ' 

♦ • « . - *■ 

r -* / 



: . p. • t 
4 . ^ 




. » I 

• , » ^ *. « w •• 

» -. . . • ' 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 


Shelf 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 









lA 

. V 

A 

, • • 1 

•'•li 

* • 

# A 

A 

^ ' 1 j--. 

yiS - ^ V i 

.t»' t'V • . 

• -Az-sA 

• ■'■ 1 

V' f 

^ - - Li 

AA 

' ' . ' 

1' ?' 

a'A 



'''W 

!^' ' 
i.. 

A 

a'-. 


'a ' 

\aa 



; 1 

aAma 

\ 

f 

a:. 

A 

..AiA** : . 














9^ ' 

r 





-.•k - 


<.***-; 





»* 




•«. > 
t • • 




■v.r:-;-? •T,y}^Vv.:r-r..^,i- ■ ;:■: 

• • "•• .1 ■ /* /* * , ^ » 4. ^ ^ ^ 1 ■ '¥»' ■ '-^1 ■*' 


# » 
9 


Vu.* 


I* ^ • . 


< • ■ 


w 



' I. .*.’ 




> T 


t 


^ V4 


, •*? ^>1 / 

H. **■ ' - 


V| 


'/• 


» • 


' ».V-^ 

» / ^ I* ' 


' •/ 


V. 


Wi. 


» -*■' 


■ 


xf 


« . >> .ij'/,.’^ ri •' *-^V-^ . » 



.".. * _j^' r * 

^1' . v.-k' ■ '■- '.'■« ■ " 

a: 

■u~' 


■) •; 







• H ' 


/»>: ' . 

k» ^ . ; • A" \ 


■'■ •Xt*' ■'■ •■' '■'’ ' •■' 

fj . V -i L-tv ’ ' . 


'i. I 


• ✓ 


y*ii* 


* • % 


^ ( 







I ' 





. * > 


-• »' 


i ^ 

I 


« 4 


• K 4 . • 


HIV? 1 . ■ .. {../aSs- .‘-- 'i 


f » / V 

^ TS 



I • 


- L. 


• -1 


i.- 




V“^. ' 


• ^ 




‘^kSth-y’ "W 



, 1 


tn>» «■* 


tf • 


% .> 




>■•1 




} . t' • 

■ » » , . - 


•V. \ 


«..( 


‘O' 


*" ^ Ff' c'* i 

• •^TWr -V;:/),- ^ 


I 


V*:*. 




' 1 




r •■ 




< . -^1 . 



, • j ^ > 


I •' SI*' • • 


A 



1 

^;f 





-e^ 


•%rv' - 

V .‘XV^.V/) 


. . r •» ■ / . ' -p^ 

ci>a" '' 


•. t 


0^4:- ■ 
,* V'- VJj 








i*. 
1 * 


f\ji 






» - « 

. « 



• iv' . 

— '\'4 - ■ >‘'”v, 

;v;v ' 7> . 

• w 


fi 




w 




L'Stow^ *' v s '5 W 

/ f) .'.■'••jf 






, t- :•: 




•> 






t 4rf 


.fc .a h I i 


«• 

v 


-I • 



.k > .* ■.VV':'> 

rW£'''...^.K.I.U.i<V*'l: ' 





* 


« 




I 







I 


« 






I 


t 


« 







4 




< 


> ^ 




T 




0 


M. 


$ 

'Si 

I 


' i 



N 


. s 




I 


f 



fevEm 



A.tSktLV TuBLIC^Tlor/of^TKe ee^Tcor{F^j 



NOVELS 


EMINENT HANDS 


BV 


W. H. THACKERAY 


Snur«<l at tb« Poat Ofllc*. M. Y., at srcoDd>rlait mattci 

c«rrri(bt. ulsa, bp joum w. luv«u. co. 


NEVV VORK; 


+ Jo h.N • W • OVE L L • Co;APA.KYf 

- J4. vesEY STREET 




I^W 

TtMtcLoxHBisfiiv^^M^iMiMiiii^^iiilMTfTwni^nTMiSTSwSSSrTTCnSSP 





LOVELL’S LIBRARY -CATALOGUE. 




1. Hyperion, by H. W, I.ongfcllow. .20 
t. Outre-Mer, by H. W. Lougfeilow.aO 
8. The Happy Boy, by BjOmaon. . . . 10 

4, Arne, by BjOrnson 10 

6. Frankenstein, by Mrs. Shelley. ..10 
6.' vThe Last of the Mohicans /^O 
, 7. £lytie# by Joseph Hattbn.. ...jHO 

8. The Moonstone, by C ollins, F’tl^O 

9. The Moon&tone. by Collins. P’tll. 10 
-10. Oliver Twist, by 'Charles I)ickensi20 

11. The Coming Race, by Lytton....lO 

12. Leila, by Lord Lytton 10 

13. The Three Spaniards, by Walker. 20 

14. TheTricks or tbe GreeIcsUnveiled.20 

15. .L’Abb6 Constantin, by Hal6vy..20 

16. Freckles, by R. F. Redcliff.. ..20 

17. The Dark Colleen, by Harriett Jay .20 

18. They Were Married 1 by Walter 

Besant and James Rice 10 

19. Seekers after God, by Farrar 20 

20. The Spanish Nun, .by DeQuincey.lO 

21. The Green Mountain Boys 20 

22. Fleurette, by Eugene Scni e 20 

23. Second Thoughts, y Broughton. 20 

24. The New Magdalen, y Collins.. 20 

25. Divorce, by Margaret I-ce 20 

26. Life of Washington, by Henley. 20 

27. Social Etiquette, by Mr8.Savi’lle.i5 

28. Single Heart and Double Face,. 10 

29. Irene, by Carl Detlef 20 

80. Vice Versa, by F. Anstey 20 

8 1 . Ernest Mai tra vers, by Lord Lytton20 

82. The Haunted House and Calderon 

the Courtier, by Lord Lytton.. 10 

83. John Halifax, by Miss Mulock. ,.20. 

84. 800 Leagues oh tbe Amazon 10 

35. The Cryptogram, by Jules Verne. 10 

36. Idfe of Marion by Horry .20 

87. Paul and Virginia ....10 

88. Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens,. 20 

89. The Hermits, by Kingsley 20 

40. An Adv^'enture in Thule, and Mar- 

riage of Moira Fergus, Black .10 

41. A Marriage in fct igh Life. ... r, ... 20 

42. Robin, by Mrs, Parr 20 

43. TwoonaTower, by Thos. Hardy,20 

44. Rasselas, by Samuel Johnson, .,,10 

45. Alice; or, the Mysteries, being 

Part II. of Ernest Maltraver3,,20 
48. Duke of Kandos, by A. Mathey...20 

47. Baron Munchausen... 10 

48. A Princess of Thule, by Black.. 20 

49. The Secret Despatch, by Grant, 20 

60. Early Days ot Christianity, by 

Canon Farrar, D D , Part I. . . .20 
Early Days of Christianity, Pt. 11.20 

61. Vicar of Wakefield, by Goldsmith. 10 

52. Progress and Poverty, by Henry 

George ..,.20 

53. The Spy, by Cooper ....20 

64. East Lynne, dt Mrs. Wood... 20 

65. A Strange Story. W Lord Lytton.. .20 

66. Adam Bede, by Eliot, Parti 15 

Adam Bede, Part II 15 

67. The Golden Shaft, by Gibbon. . . .20 

68. Portia, by The Duchess 20 

69. Last Days of Pompeii, by Lytton. .20 

60. The Two Duchesses, by Mathey,_.20 

61. Tom Brown’s School Day8,.,rW 


62. The Wooing O’t, by Mrs. Alex- | 

ander. Parti 15 [ 

The Wooing O’t, Part II 15 

63. The Vendetta, by Balzac SO 

64. 'Hypatiaiby C bas.Kingsley,? tl.15 
HySatia, by Kihgsiey, Part I , liji. • 

6.5....Belma, by Mrs* J. G. Smith ....15 
66'. Margaret and her Bridesmk da. .'60 
,67. Horse Shoe Robinson, Part 1,... 15 
' H6r>e^hoe RobiiiBoni Part fl. . . 1 5 

CS, Gulliver’s Travels, by Swif / 20' 

60, Amos Barton, by George Eliot... 10 

70. The Berber, by W. E. M^ o 20 

71. Silas Mamer, by George Eliot. . .10 

72. The Queen of the County,-. ..... .20 

73. Life of Cromwell, by Hood... 15 

74. Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontd.20 

75. Child’s History of England 20 

76. Molly Bawu, by The Duchess. . .20 

77* Pillone, by William BergsOe 15 

78. Phyllii*, by The Duchess 20 

79. Roraola, J)y Geo. Eliot, Part I. , .15 
Romola, by Geo, Eliot, Part II. .15 

80. Science in Snort Chapters 20 

81. Zanoni, by Lord Lytton 20 

82. A Daughter of Heth 20 

83. The Right and Wrong Uces of 

the Bible, K. Heber Newton. . .20 

84. Night and Morning, Pt. I. 15 

Night and Morning. Part II 15 

85. Shandon Bells, by Wm. Black, .20 

86. Monica, by the Duchess 10 

87. Heart and Science, by Collins. . .20 

88. The Golden Calf, by Braddon. . .20 

89. The Dean’s Daughter 20 

60, Mrs. Geoffrey, by The Duchess.. 20 
01, Pickwick Papers, Part J 20 

Pickwick Papers, Part IT 20 

09. Airy. Fairy Lilian, The Duche«s.20 

93. McLeod of Dare, by Wm, Black. 20 

94. Tempest Tossed, by Tilton P’tT 20 
Tempest Tossed. by Tilton, P’t II ^ 

95. Letters from High Latitudes, by 

Lord Dufferin 20 

96. Gideon Fleyce, by Lucy 20 

97. India and Ceylon, by E. Hseckel , .20 

98. The Gypsy Queen 20 

99. Tbe Admiral’s Ward 20 

100. N import, by E. L. Bynner, P’t I . .16 
Nimport, bvE. L. Bynner, P’t 11. 15 

101. Harry Holbrooke. .:T.. 20 

102. Tritons, by E. L. Bynner, P’tl. . .15 
Tritons, by E.L. Bynner, P tII..15 

103. Let Nothing You Dismay, by 

Walter Besant lO 

104. LadyAudley’s Secret, bvMiss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

105. Woman’s Place To-day, by Mrs. 

Lillie Devereux Blake 20 

106. Dunallan, by Kf'nnedj-, Parti. . .15 
Dunalian, by Kennedy, Part II. .15 

107. Housel.-eeping and Home-mak- 

ing by Marlon Harland 15 

108. No New Thing, by W. E. Norris. 20 

109. The Spoopendyke Papers 20 

Hopes by Gold win Smith. 15 

111. Labor and Capital 20 

112. Wanda, by Oujda, Part 1 15 

Wanda, by Ouida, Part II. . .”. . . .16 





All women know that it is beauty, rather than genius, which all generations 
of men have worshipped in the sex. Can it be wondered at, then, that so much 
of woman’s time and attention should be directed to the means of developing 
and preserving that beautyl The most important adjunct to beauty is a clear, 
smooth, soft and beautiful skin. With this essential a lady appears handsome, 
even if her features are not perfect. 

Ladies afflicted with Tan, Freckles, Rough or Discolored Skin, should lose 
no time in procuring and applying 

LAIRD’S BLOOM OF YOUTH. 

It will immediately obliterate all such imperfections, and is entirely harm- 
less. It has been chemically analyzed by the Board of Health of New York City, 
and pronounced entirely free from any material injurious to the health or skin. 

Over two million ladies have used this delightful toilet preparation, and in 
every instance it has given entire satisfaction. Ladies, if you desire to be beauti- 
ful, give IjAIRD’S BLOOM OP YOUTH a trial, and be convinced of its won- 
derful efficacy. Sold by Fancy Goods Dealers and Druggists everywhere. 

Price, 75c. per Bottle. Depot, 83 John St., N. If. 


FAIR FACES, 

And fair, in the literal and most pleasing sense, are 
those kept fresh and pure by the use of 

BUCHAN'S CARBOLIC TOILET SOAP 

This article, which for the past fifteen years has 
had the commendation of every lady who uses it, is 
made from the best oils, combined with just the 
proper amount of glycerine and chemically pure 
carbolic acid, and is the realization of a PER- 
FECT SOAP. 

It will positively keep the skin fresh, clear, and white; removing tan, 
freckles and discolorations from the skin; healing all eruptions; prevent chap- 
ping or roughness ; allay irritation and soreness ; and overcome all unpleasant 
effects from perspiration. 

Is pleasantly perfumed ; and neither when using or afterwards is the slight- 
est odor of the acid perceptible. 

BUCHAN'S CARBOLIC DENTAL SOAP 

Cleans and preserves the teeth; cools and refreshes the mouth; sweetens the 
breath, and is in every way an unrivalled dental preparation. 

BUCHAN’S CARBOLIC MEDICINAL SOAP core*' all 

Eruptions and Skin Diseases. 



LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


AHEAD OF ALL COMPETITORS. 

The improvements being constantly made in '^Lovell’s 
Library ” have placed it in the Front Rank of cheap publi- 
cations in this country. The publishers propose to still 
further improve the series by having 

BJETTJSR PAPER, 

BETTER PRINTING, 

LARGER TYPE, 

and more attractive cover than any other series in the market. 


SEE ■WH.A.T IS S-A.I3D OE IT: 

The following extract from a letter recently received 
shows the appreciation in which the Library is held by those 
who most constantly read it: 

‘‘Mercantile Library, ) 
“Baltimore. August 29, 1883. ) 

“ Will you kindly send me two copies of your latest list ? I am 
glad to see that you now issue a volume every day. Your Library we 
find greatly preferable to the * Seaside ’ and ‘ Franklin Square ’ Series, 
and even better than the 12mo. form of the latter, the page being of 
better shape, the lines better leaded, and the words better spaced. 
Altogether your series is much more in favor with our subscribers than 
either of its rivals. 

“S. C. DONALDSON, Assistant Librarian.*? 


JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Publishers, 

14 So le Vesey Street, Uew "yorls.. 


NOVELS BY EMINENT 


HANDS 


BY 

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 

‘I 



NEW YORK : 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

14 AND 16 Vesey Street. 




I 


;V 












< 

« 



I 


i. 


« (T • 


# ^ t 


•\ . 


‘« 


^ ' H. ‘ • 


: «: A,* 










\ 


'o 

a- 




0 


iM'/O'^: 




» V’-* ^ / 


\ 


V 


£ 


« 

.- f- 



\ 


T 

-*i. 


• 


■-'f; 










V 


C ’ 


V: 


V ■>■" - ' ■ 




y s ^ 

‘•y 


^ / 


r 


• ^ 'S ' 


. *1 


s. 




/ 


' ► % I ^ r 

■‘' .. ^rv Ss 


« » 


V # 1 






’-*M 


K 




.\i 


r 

.•.4«i 


' . V 


«:4 


"; / Vm 


/- v. ^7 i ■'j i * ,' V ^ f 1 : ' 'J 

i . * i ' . i % 4. . - * V . ^ . . . 1 • X . .' / , ^ 




4 




V 



v»- 




A’" 


•'^ - O'- 

- y.-A 


•A « * 

:^j:- 


'-v,V 




"* ‘‘-tv: 





» ^ • ft 

4 

•• 


y- . 


V •;■■•: 






» y 




> 

r . 

✓ '• 



•-’S 

i. 


V.' 


• ^ 


■ i 

V 


.k- t •- 


; j v^..; ... 


. , 

/ - 


V . . 




'* ' 


\. 


• , 4 


■•..* ♦» 


; 

r 

* •. * 


N P> 
< ./ 

«• 


> - • I 


%• ■, 


• y 


[y 


t .', 


L.'. .■,' •• t • 


■r 




■ > ■ 


■ ''Iv 


A 

I ' • 


\ .. 




lA 

^ >; ' 
N- ■ • ' 




•< ^ 4 


V 




:\r 


v^acr 





»• • 


. 








*»• 


»• / 




♦ •• 

ft 


■r^V ■ 
. / * * ^ 






'-Vi..' 

1 •* t • 

■• < 


. . ' > 

•^ . 1 f 

. y. •:&? c- . 

•■ jXi .-. 


V o£ Ai 

. I - ^ * 




■S_^ 


JT 


I 


■' ■ 

^ V . il i 


I r 

V-/ 




:vf 


2 £H 




- 






I ' - . 




A ft 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 

By Sir E. L. B. L., Bart. 


VOL. I. 

In the Morning of Life the Truthful wooed the Beautiful, 
and their offspring was Love. Like his Divine parents, He is 
eternal. He has his Mother’s ravishing smile ; his Father’s 
steadfast eyes. He rises every day, fresh and glorious as the 
untired Sun-God. He is Eros, the ever young. Dark, dark 
were this world of ours had either Divinity left it — dark with- 
out the day-beams of the Latonian Charioteer, darker yet 
without the daedal Smile of the God of the Other Bow ! Dost 
know him, reader ? 

Old is he, Eros, the ever young. He and Time were chil- 
dren together. Chronos shall die, too ; but Love is imperish- 
able. Brightest of the Divinities, where hast thou not been 
sung ? Other worships pass away ; the idols for whom pyramids 
were raised lie in the desert crumbling and almost nameless ; 
the Olympians are fled, their fanes no longer rise among the 
quivering olive-groves of Ilissus, or crown the emerald-islets of 
the amethyst ^gean ! These are gone, but thou remainest. 
There is still a garland for thy temple, a heifer for thy stone. 
A heifer } Ah, many a darker sacrifice. Other blood is shed 
at thy altars. Remorseless One, and the Poet Priest who minis- 
ters at thy Shrine draws his auguries from the bleeding hearts 
of men! 


8 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


While Love hath no end, Can the Bard ever cease singing ? 
In Kingly and Heroic ages, ’twas of Kings and Heroes that the 
Poet spake. But in these, our times, the Artisan hath his voice 
as well as the Monarch. The people To-Day is King, and we 
chronicle his woes, as They of old did the sacrifice of the 
princely Iphigenia, or the fate of the crowned Agamemnon. 

Is Odysseus less august in his rags than in his purple ? 
Fate, Passion, Mystery, the Victim, the Avenger, the Hate that 
harms, the Furies that tear, the Love that bleeds, are not these 
with us still ? are not these still the weapons of the Artist ? the 
colors of his palette ? the chords of his lyre } Listen ! I tell 
thee a tale — not of Kings — but of Men — not of Thrones, but 
of Love, and Grief, and Crime. Listen, and but once more. 
’Tis for the last time (probably) these fingers shall sweep the 
strings. 


NOONDAY IN CHEPE. 

’Twas noonday in Chepe. High Tide in the mighty River 
City ! — its banks wellnigh overflowing with the myriad-waved 
Stream of Man ! The toppling wains, bearing the produce of 
a thousand marts ; the gilded equipage of the Millionary ; the 
humbler, but yet larger vehicle from the green metropolitan 
suburbs (the Hanging Gardens of our Babylon), in which every 
traveller might, for a modest remuneration, take a republican 
seat ; the mercenary caroche, with its private freight ; the brisk 
curricle of the letter-carrier, robed in royal scarlet ; these and 
a thousand others were laboring and pressing onward, and 
locked and bound and hustling together in the narrow channel 
of Chepe. The imprecations of the charioteers were terrible. 
From the noble’s broidered hammer-cloth, or the driving-seat of 
the common coach, each driver assailed the other with floods 
of ribald satire. The pavid matron within the one vehicle 
(speeding to the Bank for her semestrial pittance) shrieked and 
trembled ; the angry Dives hastening to his office (to add 
another thousand to his heap), thrust his head over the blazoned 
panels, and displayed an eloquence of objurgation which his 
very Menials could not equal ; the dauntless street urchins, as 
they gayly threaded the Labyrinth of Life, enjoyed the per- 
plexities and quarrels of the scene, and exacerbated the already 
furious combatants by their poignant infantile satire. And the 
Philosopher, as he regarded the hot strife and struggle of these 
Candidates in the race for Gold, thought with a sigh of the 


GEOkGE DE BARNWELL. 


9 

Fnithful and the Beautiful, and walked on, melancholy and 
serene. 

’Twas noon in Chepe. The warerooms were thronged. The 
flaunting windows of the mercers attracted many a purchaser : 
the glittering panes behind which Birmingham had glazed its 
simulated silver, induced rustics to pause ; although only noon, 
the savory odors of the Cook Shops tempted the over hungry 
citizen to the bun. of Bath, or to the fragrant potage that mocks 
the turtle’s flavor — the turtle ! O dapibtis supremi grata testudo 
yovis ! I am an Alderman when I think of thee ! Well : it 
was noon in Chepe. 

But were all battling for gain there t Among the many bril- 
liant shops whose casements shone upon Chepe, there stood one 
a century back (about which period our tale opens) devoted to 
the sale of Colonial produce. A rudely carved image of a 
negro, with a fantastic plume and apron of variegated feathers, 
decorated the lintel. The East and West had sent their con- 
tributions to replenish the window. 

The poor slave had toiled, died perhaps, to produce yon 
pyramid of swarthy sugar marked “ Only — That catty 

box, on which was the epigraph “ Strong Family Congo only 
3^-. was from the country of Confutzee — that heap of dark 
produce bore the legend “TRY OUR REAL NUT” — ’Twas 
Cocoa — and that nut the Cocoa-nut, whose milk has refreshed 
the traveller and perplexed the natural philosopher. The shop 
in question was, in a word, a Grocer’s. 

In the midst of the shop and its gorgeous contents sat one 
who, to judge from his appearance (though ’twas a difficult task, 
as, in sooth, his back was turned), had just reached that happy 
period of life when the Boy is expanding into the Man. O 
Youth, Youth ! Happy and Beautiful ! O fresh and roseate 
dawn of life ; when the dew yet lies on the flowers, ere they 
have been scorched and withered by Passion’s fiery Sun ! Im- 
mersed in thought or study, and indifferent to the din around 
him, sat the boy. A careless guardian was he of the treasures 
confided to him. The crowd passed in Chepe ; he never marked 
it. The sun shone on Chepe ; he only asked that it should 
illumine the page he read. The knave might filch his treasures ; 
he was heedless of the knave. The customer might enter; but 
his book was all in all to him. 

And indeed a customer was there ; a little hand was tapping 
on the counter with a pretty impatience ; a pair of arch eyes 
were gazing at the boy, admiring, perhaps, his manly propor- 
tions through the homely and tightened garments he wore. 


lO 


iVOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


“ Ahem ! sir ! I say, young man ! ” the customer exclaimed 

“ E'en a pameibomenos prosephe^' read on the student, his 
voice choked with emotion. ‘‘ What language ! ” he said ; “ how 
rich, how noble, how sonorous ! prosephe podas ” 

The customer burst out into a fit of laughter so shrill and 
cheery, that the young Student could not but turn round, and 
blushing, for the first time remarked her. “ A pretty grocer’s 
boy you are,” she cried, “ wdth your applepiebomenos and your 
French and lingo. Am I to be kept waiting for hever t ” 

Pardon, fair Maiden,” said he, with a high-bred courtesy \ 
’twas not French I read, ’twas the Godlike language of the 
blind old bard. In what can I be serviceable to ye, lady } ” 
and to spring from his desk, to smooth his apron, to stand be- 
fore her the obedient Shop Boy, the Poet no more, was the 
work of a moment. 

“ I might have prigged this box of figs,” the damsel said 
good-naturedly, “and you’d never have turned round.” 

“ They came from the country of Hector,” the boy said. 
“ Would you have currants, lady ? These once bloomed in the 
island gardens of the blue ^gean. They are 'uncommon fine 
ones, and the figure is low ; they’re fourpence-halfpenny a pound. 
Would ye mayhap make trial of our. teas ? We do not adver- 
tise, as some folks do ; but sell as low as any other house.” 

“You’re precious young to have all these good things,” the 
girl exclaimed, not unwillhig, seemingly, to prolong the conversa- 
tion. “ If i was you, and stood behind the counter, I should 
be eating figs the whole day long.” 

“ Time was,” answered the lad, “ and not long since I thought 
so too. I thought I never should be tired of figs. But my old 
uncle bade me take my fill, and now in sooth I am aweary of 
them.” 

“ I think you gentlemen are always so,” the coquette said. 

“Nay, say not so, fair stranger!” the youth replied, his 
face kindling as he spoke, and his eagle eyes flashing fire. 
“ Figs pall j but oh I the Beautiful never does. Figs rot ; but 
oh ! the Truthful is eternal. I was born, lady, to grapple with 
the Lofty and the Ideal. My^soul yearns for the Visionary. I 
stand behind the counter, it is true ; but I ponder here upon 
the deeds of heroes, and muse over the thoughts of sages. 
What is grocery for one who has ambition ? What sweetness 
hath Muscovado to him who hath tasted of Poesy ? The Ideal, 
lady, I often think, is the true Real, and the Actual but a 
visionary hallucination. But pardon me; with what may I 
serve thee ?” 


GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 


II 


“ I came only for sixpenn’orth of tea-dust,” the girl said, 
with a faltering voice ; “but oh, I should like to hear you speak 
on forever ! ” 

Only for sixpenn’orth of tea-dust ? Girl, thou earnest for 
other things ! Thou lovedst his voice ? Siren ! what was the 
witchery of thine own ? He deftly made up the packet, and 
placed it in the little hand. She paid for her small purchase, 
and with a farewell glance of her lustrous eyes, she left him. 
She passed slowly through the portal, and in a momeni^nare 
was lost in the crowd. It was noon in Chepe. And George 
de Barnwell was alone. 


VOL. II. 

We have selected the following episodical chapter in prefer- 
ence to anything relating to the mere story of George Barnwell, 
with which most readers are familiar. 

Up to this passage (extracted from the beginning of Vol. 
II.) the tale is briefly thus : 

The rogue of a Millwood has come back every day to the 
grocer’s shop in Chepe, wanting some sugar, or some nutmeg, 
or some figs, half a dozen times in the week. 

She and George de Barnwell have vowed to each other an 
eternal attachment. 

This flame acts violently upon George. His bosom swells 
with ambition. His genius breaks out prodigiously. He talks 
about the Good, the Beautiful, the Ideal, &Ci, in and out of all 
season, and is virtuous and eloquent almost beyond belief — in 
fact like Devereux, or P. Clifford, or E. Aram, Esquires. 

Inspired by Millwood and love, George robs the till, and 
mingles in the world which he is destined to ornament. He 
outdoes all the dandies, all the wits, all the scholars, and all the 
voluptuaries of the age — an indefinite period of time between 
Queen Anne and George II. — dines with Curll at St. John’s 
Gate, pinks Colonel Charteris in a duel behind Montague 
House, is initiated into the intrigues of the Chevalier St. 
George, whom he entertains at his sumptuous pavilion at Hamp- 
stead, and likewise in disguise at the shop in Cheapside. 

His uncle, the own^r of the shop, a surly curmudgeon with 
very little taste for the True and Beautiful, has retired from 


12 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


business to the pastoral village in Cambridgeshire from which 
the noble Barn wells came. George’s cousin Annabel is, of 
course, consumed with a secret passion for him. 

Some trifling inaccuracies may be remarked in the ensuing 
brilliant little chapter ; but it must be remembered that the au- 
thor wished to present an age at a glance : and the dialogue is 
quite as fine and correct as that in the “ Last of the Barons,” 
or in “ Eugene Aram,” or other works of our author, in which 
Sentiment and History, or the True and Beautiful, are united. 


Chapter XXIV. 

BUTTON^S IN PALL MALL. 

Those who frequent the dismal and enor^mous Mansions of 
Silence which society has raised to Ennui in that Omphalos of 
town, Pall Mall, and which, because they knock you down with 
their dulness, are called Clubs no doubt ; those who yawn from 
a bay-window in St. James’s Street, at a half-score of other 
dandies gaping from another bay-window over the way ; those 
who consult a dreary evening paper for news, or satisfy them- 
selves with the jokes of the miserable Punch by way of wit ; 
the men about town of the present day, in a word, can have 
but little idea of London some six or eightscore years back. 
Thou pudding-sided old dandy of St. James’s Street, with thy 
lackered boots, thy dyed whiskers, and thy suffocating waist- 
band, what art thou to thy brilliant predecessor in the same 
quarter ? The Brougham from which thou descendest at the 
portal of the “ Carlton ” or the “ Traveller’s,” is like every- 
body else’s ; thy black coat has no more plaits, nor buttons, 
nor fancy in it than thy neighbor’s ; thy hat was made on the 
very block on which Lord Addlepate’s was cast, who has just 
entered the Club before thee. You and he yawn together out 
of the same omnibus-box every night ; you fancy yourselves 
men of pleasure ; you fancy yourselves men of fashion ; you 
fancy yourselves men of taste ; in fancy, in taste, in opinion, in 
philosophy, the newspaper legislates for you ; it is there you 
get your jokes and your thoughts, and your facts and your wis- 
dom — poor Pall Mall dullards. Stupid slaves of the press, on 
that ground which you at present occupy, there were men of 
wit and pleasure and fashion, some five-and-twenty lustres ago. 

We are at Button’s — the well-known sign of the “ Turk’s 


GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 


13 


Head.” The crowd of periwigged heads at the windows — the 
swearing chairmen round the steps (the blazoned and coro- 
nailed panels of whose vehicles denote the lofty rank of their 
owners), — the throng of embroidered beaux entering or depart- 
ing, and rendering the air fragrant with the odors of pulvillio 
and pomander, proclaim the celebrated resort of London’s Wit 
and Fashion. It is the corner of Regent Street. Carlton 
House has not yet been taken down. 

A stately gentleman in crimson velvet and gold is sipping 
chocolate at one of the tables, in earnest converse with a friend 
whose suit is likewise embroidered, but stained by time, or 
wine mayhap, or wear. A little deformed gentleman in iron- 
gray is reading the Morning Chro7iide newspaper by the fire, 
while a divine, with a broad brogue and a shovel hat and cas- 
sock, is talking freely with a gentleman, whose star and ribbon, 
as well as the unmistakable beauty of his Phidian counte- 
nance, proclaims him to be a member of Britain’s aristocracy. 

Two ragged youths, the one tall, gaunt, clumsy and scrofu- 
lous, the other with a wild, careless, beautiful look, evidently 
indicating Race, are gazing in at the window, not merely at the 
crowd in the celebrated Club, but at Timothy the waiter, who 
is removing a plate of that exquisite dish, the muffin (then 
newly invented), at the desire of some of the revellers within. 

“ I would, Sam,” said the wild youth to his companion, 
“ that I had some of my mother Macclesfield’s gold, to enable 
us to eat of those cates and mingle with yon springalds and 
beaux.” 

“ To vaunt a knowledge of the stoical philosophy,” said 
the youth addressed as Sam, “ might elicit a smile of incredulity 
upon the cheek of the parasite of pleasure ; but there are 
moments in life when History fortifies endurance : and past 
study renders present deprivation more bearable. If our pe- 
cuniary resources be exiguous, let our resolution, Dick, supply 
the deficiencies of Fortune. The muffin we desire to-day would 
little benefit us to-morrow. Poor and hungry as we are, are we 
less happy, Dick, than yon listless voluptuary who banquets on 
the food which you covet } ” 

And the two lads turned away up Waterloo Place, and past 
the “ Parthenon ” Club-house, and disappeared to take a meal 
of cow-heel at a neighboring cook’s shop. Their names were 
Samuel Johnson and Richard Savage. 

Meanwhile the conversation at Button’s was fast and bril- 
liant. “ By Wood’s thirteens, and the divvle go wid ’em,” 
cried the Church dignitary in the cassock, “ is it in blue and 


14 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANES. 


goold ye are this morning, Sir Richard, when you ought to be 
in seebles ? 

‘‘ Who’s dead. Dean ? ” said the nobleman, the dean’s com- 
panion. 

“Faix, mee Lard Bolingbroke, as sure as mee name’s Jona- 
than Swift — and I’m not so sure of that neither, for who knows 
his father’s name ? — there’s been a mighty cruel murther com- 
mitted entirely. A child of Dick Steele’s has been barbarously 
slain, dthrawn, and quarthered, and it’s Joe Addison yondther 
has done it. Ye should have killed one of your own, Joe, ye 
thafe of the world.” 

“ I ! ” said the amazed and Right Honorable Joseph Ad- 
dison ; “ I kill Dick’s child ! I was godfather to the last.” 

“ And promised a cup and never sent it,” Dick ejaculated. 
Joseph looked grave. . 

“The child I mean is Sir Roger de Coverley, Knight and 
Baronet. What made ye kill him, ye savage Mohock } The 
whole town is in tears about the good knight ; all the ladies at 
Church this afternoon were in mourning ; all the booksellers are 
wild ; and Lintot says not a third of the copies of the Spectator 
are sold since the death of the braVe old gentleman.” And the 
Dean of St. Patrick’s pulled out the Spectator newspaper, con- 
taining the well-known passage regarding Sir Roger’s death. 

“ I bought it but now in ‘ Wellington Street,’ ” he said ; “ the 
newsboys were howling all down the Strand.” 

“ What a miracle is Genius — Genius, the Divine and Beauti- 
ful,” said a gentleman leaning against the same fireplace with 
the deformed cavalier in iron-gray, and addressing that indi- 
vidual, who was in fact Mr. Alexander Pope. “ What a mar- 
vellous gift is this, and royal privilege of Art ! To make the 
Ideal more credible than the Actual : to enchain our hearts, 
to command our hopes, our regrets, our tears, for a mere brain- 
born Emanation : to invest with life the Incorporeal, and to 
glamor the cloudy into substance, — these are the lofty privi- 
leges of the Poet, if I have- read poesy aright ; and I am as 
familiar with the sounds that rang from Homer’s lyre, as with 
the strains which celebrate the loss of Belinda’s lovely locks ” 
— (Mr. Pope blushed and bowed, highly delighted) — “ these, I 
say, sir, are the privileges of the Poet — the Poietes — the Maker 
' — he moves the world, and asks no lever ; if he cannot charm 
death into life, as Orpheus feigned to do, he can create Beauty 
out of 'Nought, and defy Death by rendering Thought Eternal. 
Ho ! Jemmy, another flask of Nantz.” 

And the boy — for he who addressed the most brilliant com* ^ 


GEORGE DE BARNWELL, 


15 

pany of wits in Europe was little more — emptied the contents 
of the brandy-flask into a silver flagon, and quaffed it gayly to 
the health of the company assembled. ’Twas the third he had 
taken during the sitting. Presently, and with a graceful salute 
to the Society, he quitted the coffee-house, and was seen can- 
tering on a magnificent Arab past the National Gallery. 

“Who is yon spark in blue and silver? He beats Joe Ad- ” 
dison himself, in drinking, and pious Joe is the greatest toper 
in the three kingdoms,” Dick Steele said, good-naturedly. 

“ His papers in the Spectator beat thy best, Dick, thou slug- 
gard,” the Right Honorable Mr. Addison exclaimed. “He is 
the author of that famous No. 996, for which you have all been 
giving me the credit.” 

“ The rascal foiled me at capping verses,” Dean Swift said, 

“ and won a tenpenny piece of me, plague take him ! ” 

“ He has suggested an emendation in my ‘ Homer,’ which 
proves him a delicate scholar,” Mr. Pope exclaimed. 

“ He knows more of the French king than any man I have 
met with ; and we must have an eye upon him,” said Lord 
Bolingbroke, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and 
beckoning a suspicious-looking person who was drinking at a 
side-table, whispered to him something. 

Meantime who was he ? where was he, this youth who had 
struck all the wits of London with admiration ? His galloping 
charger had returned to the City ) his splendid court-suit was 
doffed for the citizen’s gaberdine and grocer’s humble apron. 

George de Barnwell was in Chepe — in Chepe, at the feet of 
Martha Millwood. 


VoL HI. 

THE CONDEMNED CELL. 

Quid me moUibus implicas lacertjs^ my Ellinor? Nay,” 
George added, a faint smile illumining his wan but noble fea- 
tures, “ why speak to thee in the accents of the Roman poet, 
which thou comprehendest not ? Bright One, there be other 
things in Life, in Nature, in this Inscrutable Labyrinth, this 
Heart on which thou leanest, which are equally unintelligible 
to thee ! Yes, my pretty one, what is the Unintelligible but 
the Ideal ? what is the Ideal but the Beautiful? what the Beau- 
tiful but the Eternal ? And the Spirit of Man that would com- 


1 6 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HA NDS. 

mune with these is like Him who wanders by the thina polu* 
phloishoio thalasses, and shrinks awe-struck before that Azure 
Mystery.” 

Emily’s eyes filled with fresh-gushing dew. “ Speak on, 
speak ever thus, my George,” she exclaimed. Barnwell’s 
chains rattled as the confiding girl clung to him. Even Snog- 
gin, the Turnkey appointed to sit with the Prisoner, was af- 
fected by his noble and appropriate language, and also burst 
into tears. 

“ You weep, my Snoggin,” the Boy said ; “ and why 1 Hath 
Life been so charming to me that I should wish to retain it 
Hath Pleasure no after-Weariness ? Ambition no Deception ; 
Wealth no Care ; and Glory no Mockery } Psha ! I am 
sick of Success, palled of Pleasure, weary of Wine ! and Wit, 
and — nay, start not, my Adelaide — and Woman. I fling away 
all these things as the Toys of Boyhood. Life is the Soul’s 
Nursery. I am a Man, and pine for the Illimitable! Mark 
you me ! Has the Morrow any terrors for me, think ye 1 
Did Socrates falter at his poison ? Did Seneca blench in his 
bath 1 Did Crutus shirk the sword when his great stake was 
lost 1 Did even weak Cleopatra shrink from the Serpent’s 
fatal nip 1 And why should I ? My great Hazard hath been 
played, and I pay my forfeit. Lie sheathed in my heart, thou 
flashing Blade ! Welcome to my Bosom, thou faithful Serpent ; 
1 hug thee, peace-bearing Image of the Eternal ! Ha, the 
hemlock cup ! Fill high, boy, for my soul is thirsty for the 
Infinite ! Get ready the bath, friends ; prepare me for the 
feast To-morrow — bathe my limbs in odors, and put ointment 
in my hair.” 

“ Has for a bath,” Snoggin interposed, “ they’re not to be 
'ad in this ward of the prison ; but I dussay Hemmy will git 
you a little hoil for your ’air.” 

The Prisoned One laughed loud and merrily. “ My guar- 
dian understands me not, pretty one — and thou } what sayest 
thou ? From those dear lips methinks — -plura sunt oscula quant 
setiteuticE — I kiss away thy tears, dove ! — they will flow apace 
when I am gone, then they will dry, and presently these fair 
eyes will shine on another, as they have beamed on poor George 
Barnwell. Yet wilt thou not all forget him, sweet one. He 
was an honest fellow, and had a kindly heart for all the world 
said — ” 

“ That, that he had,” cried the jailer and the girl in voices 
gurgling with emotion. And you who read I you unconvicted 
Convict — ^you murderer, though haply you have slain no one — > 


GEORGE DE BARNlVELL. 


17 

jou Felon in posse if not m esse — deal gently with one who has 
used the Opportunity^ that has failed thee — and believe that 
the Truthful and the Beautiful bloom sometimes in the dock 
and the convict’s tawny Gaberdine ! 

# # « # 

In the matter for which he suffered, George could never be 
brought to acknowledge that he was at all in the wrong. “ It 
may be an error of judgment,” he said to the Venerable Chaplain 
of the jail, “but it is no crime. Were it Crime, I should feel 
Remorse. Where there is no remorse. Crime cannot exist. I 
am not sorry : therefore, I am innocent. Is the proposition a 
fair one ? ” 



The excellent Doctor admitted that it was not to be con- 
tested. 



, 8 N^O V ELS E y EMINENT HA NDS. 

And wherefore, sir, should I have sorrow/’ the Boy re- 
sumed, “ for ridding the world of a sordid worm ; * of a man 
whose very soul was dross, and who never had a feeling for the 
Truthful and the Beautiful ? When I stood before my uncle in 
the moonlight, in the gardens of the ancestral halls of the De 
Barnwells, I felt that it was the Nemesis come to overthrow him. 
‘ Dog,’ I said to the trembling slave, ‘ tell me where thy Gold is. 
Thou hast no use for it. I can spend it in relieving the Poverty 
on which thou tramplest ; in aiding Science, which thou knowest 
not ; in up-lifting Art, to which thou art blind. Give Gold, 
and thou art free.’ But he spake not, and I slew him.” 

“ I would not have this doctrine vulgarly promulgated,” 
said the admirable chaplain, ‘‘for its general practice might 
-.chance to do harm. Thou, my son, the Refined, the Gentle, 
the Loving and Beloved, the Poet and Sage, urged by what I 
cannot but think a grievous error, hast appeared as Avenger. 
Think what would be the world’s condition, were men without 
any Yearning after the Ideal to attempt to reorganize Society, 
to redistribute Property, to avenge Wrong.” 

“ A rabble of pygmies scaling Heaven,” said the noble 
though misguided young Prisoner. “ Prometheus was a Giant, 
and he fell.” 

“ Yes, indeed, my brave youth ! ” the benevolent Dr. Fuzwig 
exclaimed, clasping the Prisoner’s marble and manacled hand ; 
“ and the Tragedy of To-morrow will teach the World that 
Homicide is not to be permitted even to the most amiable 
Genius, and that the lover of the Ideal and the Beautiful, as 
thou art, my son, must respect the Real likewise.” 

“ Look ! here is supper ! ” cried Barnwell gayly. “ This is 
the Real, Doctor ; let us respect it and fall to.” He partook 
of the meal as joyously as if it had been one of his early festals ; 
but the worthy chaplain could scarcely eat it for tears. 

* This is a gross plagiarism ; the above sentiment is expressed much more eloquently 
in the. ingenious romance of Eugene Aram: — “The burning desires I have known — the 
resplendent visions I have nursed — the sublime aspirings that have lifted me so often from 
sense and clay: these tell me that whether for good or ill I a'm the thing of an immortality, 
and the creature of a God. * ♦ # # i have destroyed a man noxious to the world 
with the wealth by which he afflicted society, I have been the means of blessing many.” 


CODLINGSBY. 


By D. Shrewsberry, Esq. 


I. 

The whole world is bound by one chain. In every city in 
the globe there is one quarter that certain travellers know and 
recognize from its likeness to its brother district in all other 
places where are congregated the habitations of men. In 
Tehran, or Pekin, or Stamboul, or New York, or Timbuctoo, 
or London, there is a certain district where a certain man is 
not a stranger. Where the idols are fed with incense by the 
streams of Ching-wang-foo ; where the minarets soar sparkling 
above the cypresses, their reflections quivering in the lucid 
waters of the Golden Horn ; where the yellow Tiber flows under 
broken bridges and over imperial glories ; where the huts- are 
squatted by the Niger, under the palm-trees ; where the North- 
ern Babel lies, with its warehouses, and its bridges, its graceful 
factory-chimneys, and its clumsy fanes — hidden in fog and 
smoke by the dirtiest river in the world — in all the cities of 
mankind there is One Home whither men of one family may 
resort. Over the entire world spreads a vast brotherhood, 
suffering, silent, scattered, sympathizing, waiting — an immense 
P'ree-Masonry. Once this world-spread band was an Arabian 
clan — a little nation alone and outlying amongst the mighty 
monarchies of ancient time, the Megatheria of history. The 
sails of their rare ships might be seen in the Egyptian waters ; 
the camels of their caravans might thread the sands of Baalbec, 
or wind through the date-groves of Damascus ; their flag was 
raised, not ingloriously, in many wars, against mighty odds ; 
but ffwas a small people, and on one dark night the Lion of 
Judah went down before Vespasian’s Eagles, and in flame, and 
death, and struggle, Jerusalem agonized and died. * * * Yes, 


20 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANES. 


the Jewish city is lost to Jewish men ; but have they i\ot taken 
the world in exchange ? ” 

Mused thus Godfrey de Bouillon, Marquis of Codlingsby, as ' 
he debouched from Wych Street into the Strand. He had 
been to take a box for Armida at Madame Vestris’s theatre. 
That little Armida was folk of Madame Vestris’s theatre ; and 
her little brougham, and her little self, and her enormous eyes, 
and her prodigious opera-glass, and her miraculous bouquet, 
which cost Lord Codlingsby twenty guineas every evening at 
Nathan’s in Covent Garden (the children of the gardeners of 
Sharon have still no rival for flowers), might be seen, three 
nights in the week at least, in the narrow, charming, comfort- 
able little theatre. Godfrey had the box. He was strolling, 
listlessly, eastward ; and the above thoughts passed through 
the young noble’s mind as he came in sight of Holywell Street. 

The occupants of the London Ghetto sat at their porches 
basking in the evening sunshine. Children were playing on 
the steps. Fathers were smoking at the lintel. Smiling faces 
looked out from the various and darkling draperies with which 
the warehouses were hung. Ringlets glossy, and curly, and 
jetty — eyes black as night — midsummer night — when it lightens ; 
haughty noses bending like beaks of eagles — eager quivering 
nostrils — lips curved like the bow of Love — every man or 
maiden, every babe or matron in that English Jewry bore in his 
countenance one or more of these characteristics of his peerless 
Arab race. 

“ How beautiful they are ! ” mused Codlingsby, as he sur- 
veyed these placid groups calmly taking their pleasure in the 
sunset. 

“ D’you vant to look at a nishe coat ? ” a voice said, which 
made him start ; and then some one behind him began handling 
a masterpiece of Stultz’s with a familiarity which would have 
made the baron tremble. 

“ Rafael Mendoza ! ” exclaimed Godfrey. 

“The same. Lord Codlingsby,” the individual so apos- 
trophized replied. “ I told you we should meet again where 
you would little expect me. Will it please you to enter ? this 
is Friday, and we close at sunset. It rejoices my heart to 
welcome you home.” So saying Rafael laid his hand on his 
breast, and bowed, an oriental reverence. All traces of the 
accent with which he first addressed Lord Codlingsby had 
vanished : it was disguise ; half the Hebrew’s life is a disguise. 
He shields himself in craft, since the Norman boors persecuted 
him. 


CODLINGSBY. 


21 


They passed under an awning of old clothes, tawdry fripperies, 
greasy spangles, and battered masks, into a shop as black and 
hideous as the entrance was foul. ‘‘ This your home, Rafael .? ” 
said Lord Codlingsby. 

‘‘ Why not ? ” Rafael answered. “ I am tired of Schloss 
Schinkenstein : the Rhine bores me after a while. It is too 
hot for Florence ; besides they have not completed the picture- 
gallery, and my place smells of putty. You wouldn’t have a 
man, mon cher^ bury himself in his chateau in Normandy, out of 
the hunting season ? The Rugantino Palace stupefies me. 
Those Titians are so gloomy, I shall have my Plobbimas 
and Tenierses, I think, from my house at the Hague hung over 
them.” 

“ How many castles, palaces, houses, warehouses, shops, 
have you, Rafael ? ” Lord Codlingsby asked, laughing. 

“ This is one,” Rafael answered. “ Come in.” 


11 . 

The noise in the old town was terrific; Great Tom was 
booming sullenly over the uproar ; the bell of Saint Mary’s was 
clanging with alarm ; St. Giles’s tocsin chimed furiously ; 
howls, curses, flights of brickbats, stones shivering windows, 
groans of wounded men, cries of frightened females, cheers of 
either contending party as it charged the enemy from Carfax 
to Trumpington Street, proclaimed that the battle was at its 
height. 

In Berlin they would have said it was a revolution, and the 
cuirassiers would have been charging, sabre in hand, amidst 
that infuriate mob. In France they would have brought down 
artillery, and played on it with twenty-four pounders. In 
Cambridge nobody heeded the disturbance — it was a Town and 
Gown row. 

The row rose at a boat-race. The Town boat (manned by 
eight stout Bargees, with the redoubted Rullock for stroke) 
had bumped the Brazenose J-ight oar, usually at the head of the 
river. High words arose regarding the dispute. After return- 
ing from Granchester, when the boats pulled back to Christ- 
church meadows, the disturbance between the Townsmen and 
the University youths — their invariable opponents — grew louder 
and more violent, until it broke out in open battle. Sparring 
and skirmishing took place along the pleasant fields that lead 


22 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


from the University gate down to the broad and shining waters 
of the Cam, and under the walls of Balliol and Sidney Sussex. 
The Duke of Bellamont (then a dashing young sizar at Exeter) 
had a couple of rounds with Billy Butt, the bow-oar of the 
Bargee boat. Vavasour of Brazenose was engaged with a 
powerful butcher, a well-known champion of the Town party, 
when, the great University bells ringing to dinner, truce was 
called between the combatants, and they retired to their several 
colleges for refection. 

During the boat-race, a gentleman pulling in a canoe, and 
smoking a narghilly, had attracted no ordinary attention. He 
rowed about a hundred yards ahead of the boats in the race, 
so that he could have a good view of that curious pastime. If 
the eight-oars neared him, with a few rapid strokes of his flash- 
ing paddles his boat shot a furlong ahead ; then he would wait, 
surveying the race, and sending up volumes of odor from his 
cool narghilly. 

‘‘ Who is he ? ” asked the crowds who panted along the 
shore, encouraging, according to Cambridge wont, the efforts 
of the oarsmen in the race. Town and Gown alike asked who 
it was, who, with an ease so provoking, in a barque so singular, 
with a form seemingly so slighbsbut a skill so prodigious, beat 
their best men. No answer could be given to the query, save 
that a gentleman in a dark travelling-chariot, preceded by six 
fourgons and a courier,^ had arrived the day before at the 
“ Hoop Inn,” opposite Brazenose, and that the stranger of the 
canoe seemed to be the individual in question. 

No wonder the boat, that all admired so, could compete 
with any that ever was wrought by Cambridge artificer or 
Putney workman. That boat — slim, shining, and shooting 
through the water like a pike after a small fish — was a caique 
from Tophana ; it had distanced the Sultan’s oarsmen and the 
best crews of tlie Captain Pasha in the Bosphorus ; it was the 
workmanship of Togrul-Beg, Caikjee Bashee of his Highness. 
The Bashee had refused fifty thousand tomauns from Count 
Boutenieff, the Russian Ambassador, for that little marvel. 
When his head was taken off, the Father of Believers presented 
the boat to Rafael Mendoza. N 

It was Rafael Mendoza that saved the Turkish monarchy 
after the battle of Nezeeb. By sending three millions of 
piastres to the Seraskier ; by bribing Colonel de St. Cornichon, 
the French envoy in the camp of the victorious Ibrahim, the 
march of the Egyptian army was stopped — the menaced empire 
of the Ottomans was saved from ruin; the Marchioness of 


CODLINGSBY. 


23 


Stokepogis, our ambassador’s lady, appeared in a suit of dia^ 
monds which outblazed even the Romanoff jewels, and Rafael 
Mendoza obtained the little caique. He never travelled with- 
out it. It was scarcely heavier than an arm-chair. Baroni, the 
courier, had carried it down to the Cam that morning, and 
Rafael had seen the singular sport which we have mentioned. 

The dinner over, the young men rushed from their colleges, 
flushed, full-fed, and eager for battle. If the Gown was angry, 
the Town, too, was on the alert. From Iffly and Barnwell, 
from factory and mill, from wharf and warehouse, the Town 
poured out to meet the enemy, and their battle was soon gen- 
eral. From the Addenbrook’s hospital to the Blenheim turn- 
pike, all Cambridge w^as in an uproar — the college gates 
closed — the shops barricaded — the shop-boys away in support 
of their brother townsmen — the battle raged, and the Gown 
had the worst of the fight. 

A luncheon of many courses had been provided for Rafael 
Mendoza at his inn ; but he smiled at the clumsy efforts of the 
university cooks to entertain him, and a couple of dates and a 
glass of water formed his meal. In vain the discomfited land- 
lord pressed him to partake of the slighted banquet. “A 
breakfast ! psha ! ” said he. “ My good man, I have nineteen 
cooks, at salaries rising from four hundred a year. I can have 
a dinner at any hour ; but a Town and Gowm row ” (a brickbat 
here flying through the window crashed the caraffe of water in 
Mendoza’s hand) — “ a Town and Gown row is a novelty to me. 
The Town has the best of it, clearly, though : the men out- 
number the lads. Ha, a good blow ! How that tall townsman 
went down before yonder slim young fellow in the scarlet 
trencher cap.” 

“ That is the Lord Codlingsby,” the landlord said. 

“ A light weight, but a pretty fighter,” Mendoza remarked. 
“Well hit with your left. Lord Codlingsby; well parried. Lord 
Codlingsby ; claret drawn, by Jupiter ! ” 

“ Ours is werry fine,” the landlord said. “ Will your High- 
ness have Chateau Margaux or Lafitte ? ” 

“He never can be going to match himself against that 
bargeman ! ” Rafael exclaimed, as an enormous boatman — no 
other than Rullock — indeed, the most famous bruiser of Cam- 
bridge, and before whose fists the Gownsmen went down like 
ninepins — fought his way up to the spot where, with admirable 
spirit and resolution, Lord Codlingsby and one or two of his 
friends were making head against a number of the Town. 

The young noble faced the huge champion with the gal* 


24 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


lantry of his race, but was no match for the enemy’s strength 
and weight and sinew, and went down at every round. The 
brutal fellow had no mercy on the lad. His savage treatment 
chafed Mendoza as he viewed the unequal combat from the 
inn-window. “ Hold your hand ! ” he cried to this Goliath ; 
“ don’t you see he’s but a boy ? ” 

“Down he goes again !” the bargeman cried, not heeding 
the interruption. “ Down he goes again : I likes wapping a 
lord ! ” 

“ Coward ! ” shouted Mendoza j and to fling open the win- 
dow amidst a shower of brickbats, to vault over the balcony, to 
slide down one of the pillars to the ground, was an instant’s 
work. 

At the next he stood before the enormous bargeman. 
****** 

After the coroner’s inquest, Mendoza gave ten thousand 
pounds to each of the bargeman’s ten children, and it was thus 
his first acquaintance was formed with Lord Codlingsby. 

But we are lingering on the threshold of the house in 
Holywell Street. Let us go in. 


III. 

Godfrey and Rafael passed from the street into the outer 
shop of the old mansion in Holywell Street. It was a mas- 
querade warehouse to all appearance. A dark-eyed damsel of 
the nation was standing at the dark and grimy counter, strewed 
with old feathers, old yellow boots, old stage mantles, painted 
masks, blind and yet gazing at you with a look of sad death- 
like intelligence from the vacancy behind their sockets. 

A medical student was trying one of the doublets of orange- 
tawney and silver, slashed with dirty light-blue. He was 
going to a masquerade that night. He thought Polly Pattens 
would admire him in the dress — Polly Pattens, the fairest of 
maids-of-all-work — the Borough Venus, adored by half the youth 
of Guy’s. 

“ You look like a prince in it, Mr. Lint,” pretty Rachel 
said, coaxing him with her beady black eyes. 

“ It is the cheese,” replied Mr. Lint ; “ it ain’t the dress that 
don’t suit, my rose of Sharon ; it’s the figure. Hullo, Rafael, 
is that you, my lad of sealing-wax ? Come and intercede for 


CODLINGSBY. 


25 

me with this wild gazelle ; she says I can’t have it under fif- 
teen bob for the night. And it’s too much : cuss me if it’s not 
too much, unless you’ll take my little bill at two months, Ra- 
fael.” 

“ There’s a sweet pretty brigand’s dress you may have for 
half de monish,” Rafael replied; “there’s a splendid clown for 
eight bob ; but for dat Spanish dress, selp ma Moshesh, Mis- 
traer Lint, ve’d ask a guinea of any but you. Here’s a gentle- 
mansh just come to look at it. Look ’ear, Mr. Brownsh, did 
you ever shee a nisher ting dan dat ? ” So saying, Rafael turned 
to Lord Codlingsby with the utmost gravity, and displayed to 
him the garment about which the young medicus was haggling. 

“ Cheap at the money,” Codlingsby replied ; “ if you won’t 
make up your mind, sir, I should like to engage it myself.” 
But the thought that another should appear before Polly Pat- 
tens in that costume was too much for Mr. Lint ; he agreed to 
pay the fifteen shillings for the garment. And Rafael, pocket- 
ing the money with perfect simplicity, said, “Dis vay, Mr. 
Brownsh ; dere’s someting vill shoot you in the next shop.” 

Lord Codlingsby followed him, wondering. 

“ You are surprised at our system,” said Rafael, marking 
the evident bewilderment of his friend. “ Confess you call it 
meanness — my huckstering with yonder young fool. I would 
call it simplicity. Why throw away a shilling without need 1 Our 
race never did. A shilling is four men’s bread : shall I disdain to 
defile my fingers by holding them out relief in their neces- 
sity } • It is you who are mean — you Normans — not we of the 
ancient race. You have your vulgar measurement for great 
things and small. You call a thousand pounds respectable, 
and a shekel despicable. Psha, my Codlingsby ! One is as 
the other. I trade in pennies and in millions. I am above or 
below neither.” 

They were passing through a second shop, smelling strongly 
of cedar, and, in fact, piled up with bales of those pencils which 
the young Hebrews are in the habit of vending through the 
streets. “ I have sold bundles and bundles of these,” said 
Rafael. “ My little brother is now out with oranges in Picca- 
dilly. I am bringing him up to be head of our house at Am- 
sterdam. We all do it. I had myself to see Rothschild in 
Eaton Place this morning, about the Irish loan, of which I have 
taken three millions : and as I wanted to walk, I carried the 
bag. 

“ You should have seen the astonishment of Lauda Latymer, 
the Archbishop of Croydon’s daughter, as she was passing St 


26 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


Bennet’s, Knightsbridge, and as she fancied she recognized in 
the man who was crying old clothes the gentleman with whom 
she had talked at the Count de St. Aulair’s the night before.” 
Something like a blush flushed over the pale features of Men- 
doza as he mentioned the Lady Lauda’s name. “ Come on,” 
said he. They passed through various warehouses — the orange 
room, the sealing-wax room, the six-bladed knife department, 
and finally came to an old baize door. Rafael opened the 
baize door by some secret contrivance, and they were in a black 
passage, with a curtain at the end. 

He clapped his hands ; the curtain at the end of the pas- 
sage drew back, and a flood of golden light streamed on the 
Hebrew and his visitor. 


Chapter XXIV. 

They entered a moderate-sized apartment — indeed, Holy- 
well Street is not above a hundred yards long, and this chamber 
was not more than half that length — it was fitted up with the 
simple taste of its owner. 

The carpet was of white velvet — (laid over several webs of 
Aubusson, Ispahan, and Axminster, so that your foot gave no 
more sound as it trod upon the yielding plain than the shadow 
did which followed you) — of white velvet, painted with flowers, 
arabesques, and classic figures by Sir William Ross, J. M. W. 
Turner, R. A., Mrs. Mee, and Paul Delaroche. The edges 
were wrought with seed-pearls, and fringed with Valenciennes 
lace and bullion. The walls were hung with cloth of silver, 
embroidered with gold figures, over which were worked pome- 
granates, polyanthuses, and passion-flowers, in ruby, amethyst, 
and smaragd. The drops of dew which the artificer had 
sprinkled on the flowers were diamonds. The hangings were 
overhung by pictures yet more costly. Giorgione the gorgeous, 
Titian the golden, Rubens the ruddy and pulpy (the Pan of 
Painting), some of Murillo’s beatified shepherdesses, who smile 
on you out of darkness like a star, a few score first-class Leon- 
ardoes, and fifty of the masterpieces of the patron of Julius 
and Leo, the Imperial genius of Urbino, covered the walls of 
the little chamber. Divans of carved amber covered with 
ermine went round the room, and in the midst was a fountain, 
pattering and babbling with jets of double distilled otto of 
roses. 

“ Pipes, Goliath ! ” Rafael said gayly to a little negro with 


CODLINGSBY. 


27 

a silver collar (he spoke to him in his native tongue of Don- 
gola); “and welcome to our snuggery, my Codlingsby. We 
are quieter here than in the front of the house, and I wanted 
to show you a picture. I’m proud of my pictures. That 
Leonardo came from Genoa, and was a gift to our father from 
my cousin. Marshal Manasseh : that Murillo was pawned to 
my uncle by Marie Antoinette before the flight to Varennes — 
the poor lady could not redeem the pledge, you know, and the 
picture remains with us. As for the Rafael, I suppose you are 
aware that he was one of our people. But what are you gazing 
at ? Oh ! my sister — I forgot. Miriam ! this is the Lord Cod- 
lingsby.” 

She had been seated at an ivory pianoforte on a mother-of- 
pearl music-stool, trying a sonata of Herz. She rose when thus 
apostrophized. Miriam de Mendoza rose and greeted the 
stranger. 

The Talmud relates that Adam had two wives — Zillah the 
dark beauty ; Eva the fair one. The ringlets of Zillah were 
black j those of Eva were golden. The eyes of Zillah were 
night ; those of Eva were morning. Codlingsby was fair — of 
the fair Saxon race of Hengist and Horsa — they called him 
Miss Codlingsby at school ; but how much fairer was Miriam 
the Hebrew ! 

Her hair had that deep glowing tinge in it which has been 
the delight of all painters, and which, therefore, the vulgar 
sneer at. It was of burning auburn. Meandering over her 
fairest shoulders in twenty thousand minute ringlets, it hung to 
her waist and below it. "A light-blue velvet fillet clasped with 
a diamond aigrette (valued at two hundred thousand tomauns, 
and bought from Lieutenant Vicovich, who had received it 
from Dost Mahomed), with a simple bird of paradise, formed 
her head-gear. A sea-green cymar, with short sleeves, displayed 
her exquisitely moulded arms to perfection, and was fastened 
by a girdle of emeralds over a yellow satin frock. Pink gauze 
trousers spangled with silver, and slippers of the same color as 
the band which clasped her ringlets (but so covered with pearls 
that the original hue of the charming little papoosh disappeared 
entirely) completed her costume. She had three necklaces on, 
each of which would have dowered a Princess — her fingers 
glistened with rings to their rosy tips, and priceless bracelets, 
bangles, and armlets wound round an arm that was whiter than 
the ivory grand piano on which it leaned. 

As Miriam de Mendoza greeted the stranger, turning upon 
him the solemn welcome of her eyes, Codlingsby swooned 


28 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


almost in the brightness of her beauty. It was well she spoke ; 
the sweet kind voice restored him to consciousness. Muttering 
a few words of incoherent recognition, he sank upon a sandah 
wood settee, as Goliath, the little slave, brought aromatic coffee 
in cups of opal, and alabaster spittoons, and pipes of the fra- 
grant Gibelly. 

“ My lord’s pipe is out,” said Miriam with a smile, remark- 
ing the bewilderment of her guest — who in truth forgot to 
smoke — and taking up a thousand-pound note from a bundle 
on the piano, she lighted it at the taper and proceeded to re- 
illumine the extinp-uished chibouk of Lord Codlingsby. 


IV. 

When Miriam, returning to the mother-of-pearl music-stool, 
at a signal from her brother, touched the silver and enamelled 
keys of the ivory piano, and began to sing. Lord Codlingsby 
felt as if he were listening at the gates of Paradise, or were 
hearing Jenny Lind. 

‘‘ Lind is the name of the Hebrew' race ; so is Mendelssohn, 
the son of Almonds ; so is Rosenthal, the Valley of the Roses: 
so is Lowe or Lewis or Lyons or Lion. The beautiful and the 
brave alike give cognizances to the ancient people : you Saxons 
call yourselves Brown, or Rodgers,” Rafael observed to his 
friend ; and, drawing the instrument from his pocket, he ac- 
companied his sister, in the most ravishing manner, on a little 
gold and jewelled harp, of the kind peculiar to his nation. 

All the airs which the Hebrew maid selected were written 
by composers of her race ; it was either a hymn by Rossini, a 
polacca by Braham, a delicious romance by Sloman, or a melody 
by Weber, that, thrilling on the strings of the instrument, 
wakened a harmony on the fibres of the heart ; but she sang 
no other than the songs of her nation. 

“ Beautiful one ! sing ever, sing always,” Codlingsby thought. 
“ I could sit at thy feet as under a green palm-tree, and fancy 
that Paradise-birds were singing in the boughs.” 

Rafael read his thoughts. “ We have Saxon blood too in 
our veins,” he said. “ You smile ! but it is even so. An an- 
cestress of ours made a mhalliance in the reign of your King 
John. Her name was Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, 
and she married in Spain, w'hither she had fled to the Court of 
King Boabdil, Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, then a wddow'er by the 


CODLINGSBY, 


29 

demise of his first lady, Rowena. The match was deemed a 
cruel insult amongst our people ; but Wilfred conformed, and 
was a Rabbi of some note at the synagogue of Cordova. We 
are descended from him lineally. It is the only blot upon the 
escutcheon of the Mendozas.’^ 

As they sat talking together, the music finished, and Miriam 
having retired (though her song and her beauty were still present 
to the soul of the stranger) at a signal from Mendoza, various 
messengers from the outer apartments came in to transact busi- 
ness with him. 

First it was Mr. Aminadab, who kissed his foot, and brought 
papers to sign. “ How is the house in Grosvenor Square, 
Aminadab ; and is your son tired of his yacht yet ? ” Men- 
doza asked. “ That is my twenty-fourth cashier,” said Rafael 
to Codlingsby, when the obsequious clerk went away. “He 
is fond of display, and all my people may have what money 
they like.” 

Entered presently the Lord Bareacres, on the affair of his 
mortgage. The Lord Bareacres, strutting into the apartment 
with a haughty air, shrank back, nevertheless, with surprise on 
beholding the magnificence around him. “ Little Mordecai,” 
said Rafael to a little orange-boy, who came in at the heels of 
the noble, “ take this gentleman out and let him have ten thou- 
sand pounds. I can’t do more for you, my lord, than this — 
I’m busy. Good-by I ” And Rafael waved his hand to the 
peer, and fell to smoking his narghilly. 

A man with a square face, cat-like eyes, and a yellow 
mustache, came next. He had an hour-glass of a waist, and 
walked uneasily upon his high-heeled boots. “ Tell your 
master that he shall have two millions more, but not another 
shilling,” Rafael said. “ That story about the five-and-twenty 
millions of ready money at Cronstadt is all bosh. They won’t 
believe it in Europe. You understand me Count Grogom- 
offski .? ” 

“ But his Imperial Majesty said four millions, and I shall 
get the knout unless ” 

“ Go and speak to Mr. Shadrach, in room Z 94, the fourth 
court,” said Mendoza, good-naturedly. “Leave meat peace. 
Count ; don’t you see it is Friday, and almost sunset ” The 
Calmuck envoy retired cringing, and left an odor of. musk and 
candle-grease behind him. 

An orange-man ; an emissary from Lola Montes ; a dealer 
in piping bulfinches ; and a Cardinal in disguise, with a pro- 
posal for a new loan for the Pope, were heard by turns ; and 


30 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


each, after a rapid colloquy in his own language, was dismissed 
by Rafael. 

“ The queen must come back from Aranjuez, or that king 
must be disposed of,” I^fael exclaimed, as a yellow-faced am- 
bassador from Spain, General the Duke of Olla Podrida, left 
him. “ Which shall it be, my Codlingsby ? ” Codlingsby was 
about laughingly to answer — for indeed he was amazed to find 
all the affairs of the world represented here, and Holywell 
Street the centre of, Europe — when three knocks of a peculiar 
nature were heard, and Mendoza starting up, said, “ Ha ! there 
are only four men in the world who know that signal.” At 
once, and with a reverence quite distinct from his former non' 
chalant manner, he advanced towards the new-comer. 

He was an old man — an old man evidently, too, of the 
Hebrew race — the light of his eyes was unfathomable — about 
his mouth there played an inscrutable smile. He had a cotton 
umbrella, and old trousers, and old boots, and an old wig, curl- 
ing at the top like a rotten old pear. 

He sat down, as if tired, in the first seat at hand, as Rafael 
made him the lowest reverence. 

“ I am tired,” says he ; “ I have come in fifteen hours. I 
am ill at Neuilly,” he added with a grin. “Get me some eau 
sucree^ and tell me the news, Prince de Mendoza. These bread 
rows ; this unpopularity of Guizot ; this odious Spanish con- 
spiracy against my darling Montpensier and daughter; this 
ferocity of Palmerston against Coletti, makes me quite ill. 
Give me your opinion, my dear duke. But ha ! whom have we 
here ? ” 

The august individual who had spoken, had used the 
Hebrew language to address Mendoza, and the Lord Cod- 
lingsby might easily have pleaded ignorance of that tongue. 
But he had been at Cambridge, where all the youth acquire it 
perfectly. 

“ said he, “ I will not disguise from you that I know 

the ancient tongue in which you speak. There are probably 
secrets between Mendoza and your Maj ” 

“ Hush ! ” said Rafael, leading him from the room. “ Au 
revoir, dear Codlingsby. His Majesty is one of he whis- 
pered at the door ; “ so is the Pope of Rome ; so is * * * ” — 
a whisper concealed the rest. 

“ Gracious powers ! is it so ? ” said Codlingsby, musing. He 
entered into Holywell Street. The sun was sinking. 

“ It is time,” said he, “ to go and fetch Armida to the 
Olympic.” 


PHIL FOGARTY. 


A TALE OF THE FIGHTING ONETY-PNETH. 
By Harry Rollicker. 


I. 

The gabion was ours. After two hours’ fighting we were in 
possession of the first embrasure, and made ourselves as com- 
fortable as circumstances would admit. Jack Delamere, Tom 
Delaney, Jerry Blake, the Doctor, and myself, sat down under 
a pontoon, and our servants laid out a hasty supper on a tum- 
brel. Though Cambaebres had escaped me so provokingly 
after I cut him down, his spoils were mine; a cold fowl and a 
Bologna sausage were found in the Marshal’s holsters ; and in 
the haversack of a French private who lay a corpse on the 
glacis, we found a loaf of bread, his three days’ ration. Instead 
of salt, we had gunpowder ; and you may be sure, wherever the 
Doctor was, a flask of good brandy was behind him in his in- 
strument-case. We sat down and made a soldier’s supper. 
The Doctor pulled a few of the delicious fruit from the lemon- 
trees growing near (and round which the Carbineers and the 
24th Leger had made a desperate rally), and punch was brewed 
in Jack Delamere’s helmet. 

“ ’Faith, it never had so much wit in it before,” said the 
Doctor, as he ladled out the drink. We all roared with laugh- 
ing, except the guardsman, who was as savage as a Turk at a 
christening. 

“ Buvez-en,” said old Sawbones to our French prisoner ; 
“ 9a vous fera du bien, mon vieux coq ! ” and the Colonel, 
whose wound had been just dressed, eagerly grasped at the 
proffered cup, and drained it with a health to the donors. 

3 


32 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


How strange are the chances of war ! But half an hour be- 
fore he and I were engaged in mortal combat, and our prisoner 
was all but my conqueror. Grappling with Cambaceres, whom 
I knocked from his horse, and was about to despatch, I felt a 
lunge behind, which luckily was parried by my sabretache ; 
a herculean grasp was at the next instant at my throat — I was 
on the ground — my prisoner had escaped, and a gigantic 
warrior in the uniform of a colonel of the regiment of Artois 
glaring over me with pointed sword. 

“ Rends-toi, coquin ! ” said he. 

“ Allez au Diable ! ” said I ; “ a Fogarty never surrenders.” 
' I thought of my poor mother and my sisters, at the old 
house in Killaloo — I felt the tip of his blade between my teeth 
— I breathed a prayer, and shut my eyes — when the tables were 
turned — the butt-end of Lanty Clancy’s musket knocked the 
sword up and broke the arm that held it. 

“ Thonamoundiaoul nabochlish,” said the French officer, 
with a curse in the purest Irish. It was lucky I stopped 
laughing time enough to bid Lanty hold his hand, for the hon- 
est fellow would else have brained my gallant adversary. We 
were the better friends for our combat, as what gallant hearts 
are not ? 

The breach was to be stormed at sunset, and like true sol- 
diers we sat down to make the most of our time. The rogue 
of a Doctor took the liver-wing for his share — we gave the 
other to our guest, a prisoner ; those scoundrels Jack Dela- 
mere and Tom Delaney took the legs — and, ’faith, poor I was 
put off with the Pope’s nose and a bit of the back. 

“ How d’ye like his Holiness’s fayture'i ” said Jerry Blake. 

“ Anyhow you’ll have a merry thought^"' cried the incorrigi- 
ble Doctor, and all the party shrieked at the witticism. 

“De mortuis nil nisi bonum,” said Jack, holding up the 
drumstick clean. 

“ ’Faith, there’s not enough of it to make us chicken-hearted^ 
anyhow,” said I ; “ come, boys, let’s have a song.” 

“ Here goes,” said Tom Delaney, and sung the following 
lyric, of his own composition : — 

“ Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill, 

And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill, 

Was once Tommy Tosspot’s, as jovial a sot 
As e’er drew a spigot, or drain’d a full pot — 

In drinking all round ’twas his joy to surpass, 

And with all merry tipplers he swigg’d oif Ins glass. 


One morning in summer, while seated so snug. 
In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug. 


PHIL FOGARTY. 


33 


Stem Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear, 

And said, ‘ Honest Thomas, come take your last bier ; ’ 

We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can, 

From which let us drink to the health of my Nan.” 

“ Psha ! ” said the Doctor, “I’ve heard that song before; 
here’s a new one for you, boys ! ” and Sawbones began, in a 
rich Corkagian voice — 

” You’ve all heard of Larry O’Toole, 

Of the beautiful town of Drumgoole ; 

He had but one eye. 

To ogle ye by — 

Oh, murther, but that was a iew’l 1 
A fool 

He made of de girls, dis O’Toole.- 

” *Twas he was the boy didn’t fail. 

That tuck down pataties and mail ; 

He never would shrink 
From any sthrong dthrink. 

Was it whiskey or Drogheda ale! 

I’m bail 

This Larry would swallow a pail. 

“ Oh, many a night at the bowl. 

With Larry I’ve sot cheek by jowl ; 

He’s gone to his rest. 

Where there’s dthrink of the best. 

And so let us give his old soul 
A howl. 

For ’twas he made the noggin to rowl.” 

I observed the French Colonel’s eye glistened as he heard 
these well-known accents of his country ; but we were too well- 
bred to pretend to remark his emotion. 

The sun was setting behind the mountains as our songs 
were finished, and each began to look out with some anxiety 
for the preconcerted signal, the rocket from Sir Hussey Vivian’s 
quarters, which was to announce the recommencement of hos- 
tilities. It came just as the moon rose in her silver splendor, 
and ere the rocket-stick fell quivering to the earth at the feet 
of General Picton and Sir Lowry Cole, who were at their posts 
at the head of the storming-parties, nine hundred and ninety- 
nine guns in position opened their fire from our batteries, 
which were answered by a tremendous cannonade from the 
fort. 

“ Who’s going to dance ? ” said the Doctor : “ the ball’s 
begun. Ha! there’s goes poor Jack Delamere’s head off! 
The ball chose a soft one, anyhow. Come here, Tim, till I 
mend your leg. Your wife has need only knit half as many 
stockings next year, Doolan my boy. Faix ! there goes a big 
one had wellnigh stopped my talking : bedad ! it has snuffed 
the feather off my cocked hat ! ” 

In this way, with eighty-four-pounders roaring over us like 


34 


NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANES 


hail, the undaunted little Doctor pursued his jokes and his 
duty. That he had a feeling heart, all who served with him 
knew, and none more so than Philip Fogarty, the humble writer 
of this tale of war. 

Our embrasure was luckily bomb-proof, and the detachment 
of the Onety-oneth under my orders suffered comparatively 
little. Be cool, boys,” I said ; “ it will be hot enough work 
for you ere long.” The honest fellows answered with an Irish 
cheer. I saw that it affected our prisoner. 



“Countryman,” said I, “Tknow you; but an Irishman 
was never a traitor.” 


“ Paisez-vous ! ” said he, putting his finger to his lip. 
“ C’est la fortune de la guerre ; if ever you come to Paris, ask 
for the Marquis d’ O’Mahony, and I may render you the hospi- 
tality which your tyrannous laws prevent me from exercising 
Jn the ancestral halls of my own race.” 


PHIL FOGARTY, 


35 

I shook him warmly by the hand as a tear bedimmed his 
eye. It was, then, the celebrated Colonel of the Irish Brigade, 
created a Marquis by Napoleon on the field of Austerlitz 1. 

“ Marquis,” said I, “ the country which disowns you is 
proud of you ; but — ha ! here, if I mistake not, comes our 
signal to advance.” And in fact Captain Vandeleur, riding 
up through the shower of shot, asked for the commander of 
the detachment, and bade me hold myself in readiness to move 
as soon as the flank companies of the Ninety-ninth, and Sixty- 
sixth ahd the Grenadier Brigade of the German Legion began 
to advance up the echelon. The devoted band soon arrived ; 
Jack Bowser heading the Ninety-ninth (when was he away and 
a storm ing-party to the fore .^), and the gallant Potztausend, 
with his Hanoverian veterans. 

The second rocket flew up. 

“ Forward, Onety-oneth ! ” cried I, in a voice of thunder. 
“ Killaloo boys, follow your captain ! ” and with a shrill hurray, 
that sounded above the tremendous fire from the fort, we 
sprung up the steep ; Bowser with the brave Ninety-ninth, and 
the bold Potztausend, keeping well up with us. We passed the 
demi-lune, we passed the culverin, bayoneting the artillerymen 
at their guns ; we advanced across the two tremendous demi- 
lunes which flank the counterscarp, and prepared for the final 
spring upon the citadel. Soult I could see quite pale on the 
wall ; and the scoundrel Cambachres, who had been so nearly 
my prisoner that day, trembled as he cheered his men. “ On 
boys, on ! ” I hoarsely exclaimed. “ Hurroo ! ” said the fight- 
ing Onety-oneth. 

But there 'was a movement among the enemy. An officer, 
'glittering with orders, and another in a gray coat and a cocked 
hat, came to the wall, and I recognized the Emperor Napoleon 
and the famous Joachim Murat. 

“We are hardly pressed, methinks,” Napoleon said sternly. 
“ I must exercise my old trade as an artilleryman ; ” and Murat 
loaded, and the Emperor pointed the only hundred-and-twenty- 
four-pounder that had not been silenced by our fire. 

“ Hurray, Killaloo boys ! ” shouted I. The next moment a 
sensation of numbness and death seized me, and I lay like a 
corpse upon the rampart. 


NOVELS BV EMINENT HANDS. 


S<5 

II. 

Hush ! ” said a voice, which I recognized to be that of 
the Marquis d’ O’Mahony. “ Heaven be praised, reason has 
returned to you. For six weeks those are the only sane words 
I have heard from you.” 

“Faix, and ’tis thrue for you. Colonel dear,” cried another 
voice, with which I was even more familiar ; ’fwas that of my 
honest and gallant Lanty Clancy, who was blubbering at my 
bedside overjoyed at his master’s recovery. 

“ O mush a, Masther Phil agrah ! but this will be the great 
day intirely, when I send off the news, which I would, barrin’ 

I can’t write, to the lady your mother and your sisters at Castle 
Fogarty ; and ’tis his Riv’rence Father Luke will jump for joy 
thin, when he reads the letther ! Six weeks ravin’ and roarin’ 
as bould as a lion, and as mad as Mick Malony’s pig, that mis- 
tuck Mick’s wig for a cabbage, and died of atin’ it ! ” 

“ And have I then lost my senses ? ” I exclaimed feebly. 

“ Sure, didn’t ye call me your beautiful Donna Anna only 
yesterday, and catch hould of me whiskers as if they were the 
Signora’s jet-black ringlets ? ” Lanty cried. 

At this moment, and blushing deeply, the most beautiful 
young creature I ever set my eyes upon, rose from a chair at 
the foot of the bed, and sailed out of the room. 

‘‘Confusion, you blundering rogue,” I cried; “who is that 
love,ly lady whom ydu frightened away by your impertinence ? 
Donna Anna? Where am I ?’ 

“ You are in good hands, Philip,” said the Colonel ; “you 
are at my house in the Place Vendome, at Paris, of which I am 
the military Governor. You and Lanty were knocked down by 
the wind of the cannon-ball at Burgos. Do not be ashamed ; 
’twas the Emperor pointed the gun ; ” and the Colonel took off 
his hat as he mentioned the name darling to France. “When 
our troops returned from the sally in which your gallant storm- 
ing-party was driven back, you w'ere found on the glacis, and I 
had you brought into the City. Your reason had left you, how- 
ever, when you returned to life ; but, unwilling to desert the 
son of my old friend, Philip Fogarty, who saved my life in ’98, 
I brought you in my carriage to Paris.” 

“ And many’s the time you tried to jump out of the windy, 
Masther Phil,” said Clancy. 

“ Brought you to Paris,” resumed the Colonel, smiling ; 
“where, by the soins of my friends Broussais, Esquirol, and 


PHIL FOGARTY. 


37 

Baron Larrey, you have been restored to health, thank 
heaven ! ” 

“ And that lovely angel who quitted the apartment ? I 
cried. 

“ That lovely angel is the Lady Blanche Sarsfield, my ward, 
a descendant of the gallant Lucan, and who may be, when she 
chooses, Madame la Marechale de Cambacbres, Duchess of 
. Illyria.” 

“Why did you deliver the ruffian when he was in my 
grasp ? ” I cried. 

“ Why did Lanty deliver you when in mine ? ” the Colonel 
replied. “ C’est la fortune de la guerre, mon gar^on j but 
calm yourself, and take this potion which Blanche has pre- 
pared for you.” 

I drank the tisane eagerly when I heard whose fair hands 
had compounded it, and its effects were speedily beneficial to 
me, for I sank into a cool and refreshing slumber. 

From that day I began to mend rapidly, with all the elasti- 
city of youth’s happy time. Blanche — the enchanting Blanche 
— ministered henceforth to me, for I would take no medicine 
but from her lily hand. And what were the effects ? ’Faith, 
ere a month was past, the patient was over head and ears in 
love with the doctor ; and as for Baron Larrey, and Broussais, 
and Esquirol, they were sent to the right-about. In a short 
time I was in a situation to do justice to the gigot aux navets, 
the bceiif aux cornichofis, and other deliciouS’ e7itreinets of the 
Marquis’s board, with an appetite that astonished some of the 
Frenchmen who frequented it. 

“ Wait till he’s quite well. Miss,” said Lanty, who waited 
always behind me. “ Faith ! when he’s in health, I’d back 
him to ate a cow, barrin’ the horns and teel.” I sent a decan- 
ter at the rogue’s head, by way of answer to his impertinence. 

Although the disgusting Cambaceres did his best to have 
my parole withdrawn from me, and to cause me to be sent to 
the English depot of prisoners at Verdun, the Marquis’s interest 
with the Emperor prevailed, and I was allowed to remain at 
Paris, the happiest of prisoners, at the Colonel’s hotel at the 
Place Vendome, I here had the opportunity (an opportunity 
not lost, I flatter myself, on a young fellow with the accom- 
plishments of Philip Fogarty, Esq.) of mixing with the elite. 
of French society, and meeting with^ many of the great, the 
beautiful, and the brave. Talleyrand was a frequent guest of 
the Marquis’s. His bon-77iots used to keep the table in a roar. 
Ney frequently took his chop with us; Murat, when in towa 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS, 


38 

constantly dropt in for a cup of tea and friendly round game. 
Alas ! who would have thought those two gallant heads would 
be so soon laid low? My wife has a pair of earrings which 
the latter, who always wore them, presented to her — but we 
are advancing matters. Anybody could see, “ avec tm demi- 
as the Prince of Benevento remarked, how affairs went 
between me and Blanche ; but though she loathed him for his 
cruelties and the odiousness of his person, the brutal Camba^' 
ceres still pursued his designs upon her. 

I recollect it was on St. Patrick’s Day. My lovely friend 
had procured, from the gardens of the Empress Josephine, at 
Malmaison (whom we loved a thousand times more than her 
Austrian successor, a sandy-haired woman, between ourselves, 
with an odious squint), a quantity of shamrock wherewith to 
garnish the hotel, and all the Irish in Paris were invited to the 
national festival. 

I and Prince Talleyrand danced a double hornpipe with 
Pauline Bonaparte and Madame de Stael ; Marshal Soult went 
down a couple of sets with Madame Recamier ; and Robes- 
pierre’s widow — an excellent, gentle creature, quite unlike her 
husband-^ — stood up with the Austrian ambassador. Besides, 
the famous artists Baron Gros, David and Nicholas Poussin, 
and Canova, who was in town making a statue of the Emperor 
for Leo X., and, in a word, all the celebrities of Paris — as my 
gifted countr}’^woman, the wild Irish girl, calls them — were 
assembled in the Marquis’s elegant receiving-rooms. 

At last a great outcry was raised for La Gigue IrlandaiseJ 
La Gigue Lrlandaise ! a dance which had made a fureur amongst 
the Parisians ever since the lovely Blanche Sarsfield had danced 
it. She stepped forward and took me for a partner, and amidst 
the bravos of the crowd, in which stood Ney, Murat, Lannes, 
the Prince of Wagram, and the Austrian ambassador, we showed 
to the heau monde of the French capital, I flatter myself, a not 
unfavorable specimen of the dance of our country. 

As I was cutting the double-shuffle, and toe-and-heeling it 
in the “ rail ” style, Blanche danced up to me, smiling, and said, 
“ Be on your guard ; I see Cambacbres talking to Fouchd, the 
Duke of Otranto, about us ; and when Otranto turns his eyes 
upon a man, they bode him no good.” 

“ Cambachres is jealous,” said I. I have it,” says she ; 
“ I’ll make him dance a, turn with me.” So, presently, as the 
music was going like mad all this time, I pretended fatigue from 
my late wounds, and sat down. The lovely Blanche went up 
smiling, and brought out Cambac^res as a second partner. 


PHIL FOGARTY. 


39 

The Marshal is a lusty man, who makes desperate efforts to 
give himself a waist, and the effect of the exercise upon him 
was speedily visible. He puffed and snorted like a walrus, 
drops trickled down his purple face, while my lovely mischief 
of a Blanche went on dancing at treble quick, till she fairly 
danced him down. 

“ Who’ll take the flure with me ? ” said the charming girl, 
animated by the sport. 

“ Faix, den, ’tis I, Lanty Clancy!” cried my rascal, who 
had been mad with excitement at the scene ; and, stepping in 
with a whoop and hurroo, he began to dance with such rapidity 
as made all present stare. 

As the couple were footing it, there was a noise as of a 
rapid cavalcade traversing the Place Vendome, and stopping at 
the Marquis’s door. A crowd appeared to mount the stair ; 
the great doors of the reception-room were flung open, and two 
pages announced their Majesties the Emperor and the Empress. 
So engaged were Lanty and Blanche, that they never heard the 
tumult occasioned by the august approach. 

It was indeed the Emperor, who, returning from the Theatre 
Fran9ais, and seeing the Marquis’s windows lighted up, pro- 
posed to the Empress to drop in on the party. He made signs 
to the musicians to continue : and the conqueror of Marengo 
and Friedland watched with interest the simple evolutions of 
two happy Irish people. Even the Empress smiled ; and, see- 
ing ‘this, all the courtiers, including Naples and Talleyrand, 
were delighted. 

“ Is not this a great day for Ireland ? ” said the Marquis, 
with a tear trickling down his noble face. “ O Ireland I O 
my country I But no more of that. Go up, Phil, you divvle. 
and offer her Majesty the choice of punch or negus.” 

Among the young fellows with whom I was most intimate in 
Paris was Eugene Beauharnais, the son of the ill-used and un- 
happy Josephine by her former marriage with a French gentle- 
man of good family. Having a smack of the old blood in him, 
Eugbne’s manners were much more refined than those of the 
new-fangled dignitaries of the Emperor’s Court, where (for my 
knife and fork were regularly laid at the Tuileries) I have seen 
my poor friend Murat repeatedly mistake a fork for a tooth-pick, 
and the gallant Massena devour pease by means of his knife, 
in a way more innocent than graceful. Talleyrand, Eugene, 
and I used often to laugh at these eccentricities of our brave 
friends ; who certainly did not shine in the drawing-room, how- 
ever brilliant they were in the field of battle* The Emperoj 


40 


ATOJ^ELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


always asked me to take wine with him, and was full of kind- 
ness and attention. 

“ I like Eugene,” he would say, pinching my ear confiden- 
tially, as his way was — “ I like Eugene to keep company with 
such young fellows as you ; you have manners ; you have prin- 
ciples ; my rogues from the camp have none. And I like you, 
Philip my boy,” he added, for being so attentive to my poor 
wife — the Empress Josephine, I mean.” All these honors made 
my friends at the Marquis’s very proud, and my enemies at 
Court crever with envy. Among these, the atrocious Camba- 
c^res was not the least active and envenomed. 

The cause of the many attentions which were paid to me, 
and which, like a vain coxcomb, I had chosen to attribute to 
my own personal amiability, soon was apparent. Having formed 
a good opinion of my gallantry from my‘conduct in various 
actions arid forlorn hopes during the war, the Emperor was 
most anxious to attach me to his service. The Grand Cross 
of St. Louis, the title of Count, the command of a crack cavalry 
regiment, the iqme Chevaux Marins, were the bribes that were 
actually offered to me ; and must I say it ? Blanche, the lovely, 
the perfidious Blanche, was one of the agents employed to 
tempt me to commit this act of treason. 

“ Object to enter a foreign service ! ” she said, in reply to 
my refusal. “ It is you, Philip, who are in a foreign service. 
The Irish nation is in exile, and in the territories of its French 
allies. Irish traitors are not here ; they march alone under* the 
accursed flag of the Saxon, whom the great Napoleon would 
have swept from the face of the earth, but for the fatal valor 
of Irish mercenaries! Accept this offer, and my heart, my 
hand, my all are yours. Refuse it, Philip, and we part.” 

“ To wed the abominable Cambac^res ! ” I cried, stung with 
rage. To wear a duchess’s coronet, Blanche ! Ha, ha ! 
Mushrooms, instead of strawberry-leaves, should decorate the 
brows of the upstart French nobility. I shall withdraw my 
parole. I demand to be sent to prison — to be exchanged — to 
die — anything rather than be a traitor, and the tool of a trai- 
tress ! ” Taking up my hat, I left the room in a fury; and 
flinging open the door tumbled over Cambaceres, who was 
listening at the keyhole, and must have overheard every word 
of our conversation. 

We tumbled over each other, as Blanche was shrieking with 
laughter at our mutual discomfiture. Her scorn only made me 
more mad ; and, having spurs on, I began digging them into 
Carabacbres’ fat sides as we rolled on the carpet, until the Mar- 
shal howled with rage and anger. 


PHIL FOGARTY. 


41 

This insult must be avenged with blood I ” roared the 
Duke of Illyria. 

“ I have already drawn it,” says I, “ with my spurs.” 

“ Malheur et malediction ! ” roared the Marshal. 

“ Hadn’t you better settle your wig.-^ ” says I, offering it to 
him on the tip of my cane, “ and we’ll arrange time and place 
when you have put your jasey in order.” I shall never forget 
the look of revenge which he cast at me, as I was thus turning 
him into ridicule before his mistress. 

“ Lady Blanche,” I continued bitterly, “ as you look to share 
the Duke’s coronet, hadn’t you better see to his wig? ” and so 
saying, I cocked my hat, and walked out of the Marquis’s place, 
whistling “ Garryowen.” 

I knew my man would not be long in following me, and 
waited for him in the Place Vendome, where I luckily met Eu- 
ghne too, who was looking at the picture^shop in the corner. ■ I 
explained to him my affair in a twinkling/ He at once agreed 
to go with me to the ground, and commended me, rather than 
otherwise, for refusing the offer which had been made to me. 
“ I knew it would be so,” he said, kindly ; “ I told my father 
you wouldn’t. A man with the blood of the Fogarties, Phil 
my boy, doesn’t wheel about like those fellows of yesterday.” 
So, when Cambacbres came out, which he did presently, with 
a more furious air than before, I handed him. at once over to 
Eugene, who begged him to name a friend, and an early hour 
for the meeting to take place. 

“ Can you make it before eleven, Phil ?” said Beauharnais. 
“ The Emperor reviews the troops in the Bois de Boulogne at 
that hour, and we might fight there handy before the review.” 

Done 1 ” said I. I want of all things to see the newly- 
arrived Saxon cavalry manoeuvre 1” on which Cambaceres giv- 
ing me a look, as much as to say, “ See sights ! Watch cavalry 
manoeuvres ! Make your soul, and take measure for a coffin, 
my boy i ” walked away, naming our mutual acquaintance, 
Marshal Ney, to Eugene,. as his second in the business. 

I had purchased from Murat a very fine Irish horse, Buga- 
boo, out of Smithereens, by Fadladeen, which ran into the 
French ranks at Salamanca, with poor Jack Clonakilty, of the 
13th, dead, on the top of him. Bugaboo was too much and 
too ugly an animal for the King of Naples, who, though a showy 
horseman, was a bad rider across country ; and I got the horse 
for a song. A wickeder and uglier brute never wore a pig-skin \ 
and I never put my leg over such a timber-jumper in my life. 
I rode the horse down to the Bois de Boulogne on the morning 


NOVELS BY EM/NENI' HANDS. 


42 

\har the affair with Cambachres was to come off, and Lanty 
held him as I went in, “ sure to win,” as they say in the ring. 

Cambacbres was known to be the best shot in the French 
army ; but I, who am a pretty good hand at a snipe, thought a 
man was bigger, and that I could wing him if I had a mind. 
As soon as Ney gave the word, we both fired : I felt a whizz 
pass my left ear, and putting up my hand there, found a large 
piece of my whiskers gone ; whereas at the same moment, and 
shrieking a horrible malediction, my adversary reeled and fell. 

“ Mon Dieu, il est mort ! ” cried Ney. 

“ Pas de tout,” said Beauharnais. “ Ecoute ; il jure tou- 
jours.” 

And such, indeed, was the fact : the supposed dead man 
lay on the ground cursing most frightfully. We went up to 
him : he was blind with the loss of blood, and my ball had car- 
ried off the bridge of his nose. He recovered ; but he was 
always called the Prince of Ponterotto in the French army after- 
wards. The surgeon in attendance having taken charge of this 
unfortunate warrior, we rode off to the review, where Ney and 
Eugene were on duty at the head of their respective divisions ; 
and where, by the way, Cambaceres, as the French say, “ se 
faisait d^sirer.” 

It was arranged that Cambaceres’ division of six battalions 
and nine- and-twenty squadrons should execute a ricochet move- 
ment, supported by artillery in the intervals, and converging by 
different epaulements on the light infantry, that formed as usual, 
the centre of the line. It was by this famous manoeuvre that 
at Areola, at Montenotte, at Friedland, and subsequently at 
Mazagran, Suwaroff, Prince Charles, and General Castanos 
were defeated with such victorious slaughter : but it is a move- 
ment which, I need not tell every military man, requires the 
greatest delicacy of execution,, and which, if it fails, plunges an 
army in confusion. 

“Where is the Duke of Illyria? ” Napoleon asked. “At 
the head of his division, no doubt,” said Murat: at which 
Eugbne, giving me an arch look, put his hand to his nose, and 
caused me almost to fall off my horse with laughter. Napoleon 
looked sternly at me ; but at this moment the troops getting 
in motion, the celebrated manoeuvre began, and his Majesty’s 
attention was taken off from my impudence. 

Milhaud’s Dragoons, their bands playing “Vive Henri 
Quatre,” their cuirasses gleaming in the sunshine, moved upon 
their own centre from the left flank in the most brilliant order, 
while the Carbineers of Foy, and the Grenadiers of the Guard 
under Drouet d’Erlon, executed a carambolade on the right, 


PHIL FOGARTY. 


43 

with the precision which became those veteran troops ; but the 
Chasseurs of the young guard, marching by twos instead of 
threes, bore consequently upon the Bavarian Uhlans (an ill-dis- 
ciplined and ill-affected body), and then, falling back in disorder, 
became entangled with the artillery and the left centre of the 
line, and in one instant thirty thousand men were in inextric- 
able confusion. 

“ Clubbed, by Jabers ! ” roared out Lanty Clancy. “ I wish 
we could show ’em the Fighting Onety-oneth, Captain darling.” 

“ Silence, fellow ! ” I exclaimed. I never saw the face of 
man express passion so vividly as now did the livid countenance 
of Napoleon. He tore off General Milhaud’s epaulettes, which 
he flung into Foy’s face. He glared about him wildly, like a 
demon, and shouted hoarsely for the Duke of Illyria. “ He is 
wounded, sire,” said General Foy, wiping a tear from his eye, 
which was blackened by the force of the blow ; “ he was 
wounded an hour since in a duel, Sire, by a young English 
prisoner. Monsieur de Fogarty.” 

“ Wounded ! a Marshal of France wounded ! Where is the 

Englishman ? Bring him out, and let a file of grenadiers ’ 

Sire ! ” interposed Eugene. 

“ Let him be shot ! ” shrieked the Emperor, shaking his 
spy-glass at me with the fury of a fiend. 

This was too much. “ Here goes ! ” said I, and rode slap 
at him. 

There was a shriek of terror from the whole of the French 
army, and I should think at least forty thousand guns were 
levelled at me in an instant. But as the muskets were not 
loaded, and the cannon had only wadding in them, these facts, 
I presume, saved the life of Phil Fogarty from this discharge. 

Knowing my horse, I put him at .the Emperor’s head, and 
Bugaboo went at it like a shot. He was riding his famous 
white Arab, and turned quite pale as I came up and went over 
the horse and the Emperor, scarcely brushing the cockade 
which he wore. 

“ Bravo ! ” said Murat, bursting into enthusiasm at the 
leap. 

“ Cut him down ! ” said Sidy^s, once an Abbe, but now a 
gigantic Cuirassier ; and he made a pass at me with his sword. 
But he little knew an Irishman on an Irish horse. Bugaboo 
cleared Sidyes, and fetched the monster a slap with his near 
hind hoof which sent him reeling from his saddle, — and away I 
went with ar;i army of a hundred and seventy-three thousand 
eight hundred men at my heels. * * * * 


BARBAZURE. 

By G. P. R. Jeames, Esq. etc. 


1 . 

It was upon one of those balmy evenings of Novembei 
which are only known in the valleys of Languedoc and among 
the mountains of Alsace, that two cavaliers might have been 
perceived by the naked eye threading one of the rocky and 
romantic gorges that skirt the mountain-land between the 
Marne and the Garonne. The rosy tints of the declining lu- 
minary were gilding the peaks and crags which lined the path, 
through which the horsemen wound slowly ; and as these eter- 
nal battlements with which Nature had hemmed in the ravine 
which our travellers trod, blushed with the last tints of the 
fading sunlight, the valley below was gray and darkling, and 
the hard and devious course was sombre in twilight. A few 
goats, hardly .visible among the peaks, were cropping the 
scanty herbage here and there. The pipes of shepherds, call- 
ing in their flocks as they trooped homewards to their mountain 
villages, sent up plaintive echoes which moaned through those 
rocky and lonely steeps ; the stars began to glimmer in the 
purple heavens spread serenely overhead ; and the faint cres- 
cent of the moon, which had peered for some time scarce visi- 
ble in the azure, gleamed out more brilliantly at every moment, 
until it blazed as if in triumph at the sun’s retreat. ’Tis a 
fair land that of France, a gentle, a green, and a beautiful ; 
the home of arts and arms, of chivalry and romance, and (how- 
ever sadly stained by the excesses of modern times) ’twas the 
unbought grace of nations once, and the seat of ancient re- 
nown and disciplined valor. 

And of all that fair land of France, whose beauty is so 
bright and bravery is so famous, there is no spct greener or 
(4-1) 


BA^BAZURE. 


45 

fairer than that one over which our travellers wended, and 
which stretches between the good towns of Vendemiaire and 
Nivose. ’Tis common now to a hundred thousand voyagers : 
the English tourist with his chariot and his Harvey’s Sauce, 
and his imperials ; the bustling com7nis~voyageur on the roof of 
the rumbling diligence \ the rapid malle-poste thundering over 
the chaussee at twelve miles an hour — pass the ground hourly 
and daily now : ’twas lonely and unfrequented at the end of 
that seventeenth century with which our story commences. 

Along the darkening mountain-paths the two gentlemen 
(for such their outward bearing proclaimed them) caracolled 
together. The one, seemingly the younger of the twain, wore a 
flaunting feather in his barret-cap, and managed a prancing 
Andalusian palfrey that bounded and curvetted gayly. A sur- 
coat of peach-colored samite and a purfled doublet of vair 
bespoke him noble, as did his brilliant eye, his exquisitely 
chiselled nose, and his curling chestnut ringlets. 

Youth W'as on his brow : his eyes were dark and dewy, like 
spring violets ; and spring-roses bloomed upon his cheek — 
roses, alas ! that bloom and die with life’s spring ! Now 
bounding over a rock, now playfully whisking off with his 
riding rod a floweret in his path, Philibert de Coquelicot rode 
by his darker companion. 

His comrade was mounted upon a destriereoi the true Nor- 
man breed, that had first champed grass on the green pastures 
of Aquitaine. Thence through Berry, Picardy, and the Limou- 
sin, halting at many a city and commune, holding joust and 
tourney in many a castle and manor of Navarre, Poitou, and 
St. Germain I’Auxerrois, the warrior and his charger reached 
the lonely spot where now we find them. 

The warrior who bestrode the noble beast was in sooth 
worthy of the steed which bore him. Both were caparisoned 
in the fullest trappings of feudal war. The arblast, the man- 
gonel, the demi-culverin, and the cuissart of the period, glittered 
upon the neck and chest of the war-steed ; while the rider, 
with chamfron and catapult, with ban and arriere-ban, morion 
and tumbrel, battle-axe and rifflard, and the other appurtenances 
of ancient chivalry, rode stately on his steel-clad charger, him- 
self a tower of steel. This mighty horseman was carried by 
his steed as lightly as the young springald by his Andalusian 
hackney. 

“ ’Twas well done of thee, Philibert,” said he of the proof- 
armor, to ride forth so far to welcome thy cousin and com* 
panion in arms.” 


46 


NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANES. 


“ Companion in battledore and shuttlecock, Romane de 
Clos-Vougeot ! ” replied the younger Cavalier. “ When I was 
yet a page, thou wert a belted knight ; and thou wert away to 
the Crusades ere ever my beard grew.” 

“ I stood by Richiard of England at the gates of Ascalon, 
and drew the spear from sainted King Louis in the tents 
of Damietta,” the individual addressed as Romand replied. 
“ Well-a-day ! since thy beard grew, boy (and marry ’tis yet a 
thin one), I have broken a lance with Solyman at Rhodes, and 
smoked a chibouque with Saladin at Acre. But enough of this. 
Tell me of home — of our native valley — of my hearth, and my 
lady-mother, and my good chaplain — tell me of her., Philibert,” 
said the knight, executing a demi-volte, in order to hide his 
emotion. 

Philibert seemed uneasy, and to strive as though he would 
parry the question. “ The castle stands on the rock,” he said, 
“ and the swallows still build in the battlements. The good 
chaplain still chants his vespers at morn, and snuffles his 
matins at even-song. The lady-mother still distributeth tracts, 
and knitteth Berlin linsey-woolsey. The tenants pay no better, 
and the lawyers dun as sorely, kinsman mine,” he added with 
an arch look. 

“ But Fatima, Fatima, how fares she ? ” Romand continued. 
“ Since Lammas was a twelvemonth, I hear nought of her ; 
my letters are unanswered. The postman hath traversed our 
camp every day, and never brought me a billet. How is 
Fatima, Philibert de Coquelicot ? ” 

“ She is — well,” Philibert replied ; “ her sister Anne is the 
fairest of the twain, though.” 

“ Her sister Anne was a baby when I embarked for Egypt. 
A plague on sister Anne ! Speak of Fatima, Philibert — my 
blue-eyed Fatima ! ” 

“ I say she is — well,” answered his comrade gloomily. 

“Is she dead ^ Is she ill ? Hath she the measles ? Nay, 
hath she had small-pox, and lost her beauty ? Speak ! speak, 
boy ! ” cried the knight, wrought to agony. 

“Her cheek is as red as her mother’s, though the old 
countess paints hers every day. Her foot is as light as a 
sparrow’s, and her voice as sweet as a minstrel’s dulcimer ; but 
give me nathless the Lady Anne,” cried Philibert ; “ give me 
the peerless Lady Anne ! As soon as ever I have won spurs, 

I will ride all Christendom through, and proclaim her the 
Queen of Beauty. Ho, Lady Anne ! Lady Anne ! ” and so 
saying — ^but evidently wishing to disguise some emotion, or con- 


BARBAZURE. 


47 

ceal some tale his friend could ill brook to hear — the reckless 
damoiseau galloped wildly forward. 

But swift as was his courser’s pace, that of his compan- 
ion’s enormous charger was swifter. “ Boy,” said the elder, 
“thou hast ill tidings. I know it by thy glance. Speak: 
shall he who hath bearded grim Death in a thousand fields 
shame to face truth from a friend ? Speak, in' the name- of 
heaven and good Saint Botibol. Romane de Clos-Vougeot 
will bear your tidings like a man ! ” 

“Fatima is well,” answered Philibert once again; ‘‘she 
hath had no measles : she lives and is still fair.” 

“Fair, ay, peerless fair: but what more, Philibert? Not 
false? By Saint Botibol, say not false,” groaned the elder 
warrior. 

“ A month syne,” Philibert replied, “ she married the Baron 
de Barbazure.” 

With that scream which is so terrible in a strong man in 
agony, the brave knight Romand de Clos-Vougeot sank back 
at the words, and fell from his charger to the ground, a lifeless 
mass of steel. 


II. 

Like many another fabric of feudal war and. splendor, the 
once vast and magnificent Castle of Barbazure is now a moss- 
grown ruin. The traveller of the present day, who wanders by 
the banks of the silvery Loire, and climbs the steep on which 
the magnificent edifice stood, can scarcely trace, among the 
shattered masses of ivy-covered masonry which lie among the 
lonely crags, even the skeleton of the proud and majestic palace 
stronghold of the Barons of Barbazure. 

In the days of our tale its turrets and pinnacles rose as 
stately, and seemed (to the pride of sinful man 1) as strong as 
the eternal rocks on which they stood. The three mullets on 
a gules wavy reversed, surmounted by the sinople couchant 
Or; the well-known cognizance of the house, blazed in gor- 
geous heraldry on a hundred banners, surmounting as many 
towers. The long lines of battlemented walls spread down 
the mountain to the Loire, and were defended by thousands of 
steel-clad serving-men. Four hundred knights and six times 
as many archers fought round the banner of Barbazure at Bou' 

4 


NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 


48 

vines, Malplaquet, and Azincour. For his services at Fonte- 
noy against the English, the heroic Charles Martel appointed 
the fourteenth Baron Flereditary Grand Bootjack of the king- 
dom of France ; and for wealth, and for splendor, and for skill 
and fame in war, Raoul, the twenty-eighth Baron, was in nowise 
inferior to his noble ancestors. 

That the Baron Raoul levied toll upon the river and mail 
upon the shore ; that he now and then ransomed a burgher, 
plundered a neighbor, or drew the fangs of a Jew; that he 
burned an enemy’s castle with the wife and children within; 
these were points for which the country knew and respected the 
stout Baron. When he returned from victory, he was sure to en- 
dow the Church with a part of, his spoil, so that when he went 
forth to battle he was always accompanied by her blessing. 
Thus lived the Baron Raoul, the pride of the country in which 
he dwelt, an ornament to the Court, the Church, and his 
neighbors. 

But in the midst of all his power and splendor there was a 
domestic grief which deeply afflicted the princely Barbazure. 
His lovely ladies died one after the other. No sooner was he 
married than he was a widower ; in the course of eighteen 
years no less than nine bereavements had befallen the chief- 
tain. So true it is, that if fortune is a parasite, grief is a re- 
publican, and visits the hall ef the great and wealthy as it does 
the humbler tenements of the poor. 

* * ^ * * 4 

“ Leave ofi deploring thy faithless, gad-about lover,” said 
the Lady of Chacabacque to her daughter, the lovely Fatima, 
“ and think how the noble Barbazure loves thee ! Of all the 
damsels at the ball last night, he had eyes for thee and thy 
cousin only.” 

“ I am sure my cousin hath no good looks to be proud of ! ” 
the admirable Fatima exclaimed, bridling up. “Not that/ 
care for my Lord of Barbazure’s looks. My heart, dearest 
mother, is with him who is far away ! ” 

“ He danced with thee four galliards, nine quadrilles, and 
twenty-three corantoes, I think, child,” the mother said, elud- 
ing her daughter’s remark. 

“ Twenty-five,” said lovely Fatima, casting her beautiful 
eyes to the ground. “ Heigh-ho ! but Romane danced them 
very well ! ” 

“ He had not the court air,” the mother suggested. 

“ I don’t wish to deny the beauty of the Lord of Barbazure’s 
dancing, mamma,” Fatima replied. “ For a short, lusty man, 


BARBAZURE. 


49 


’tis wondrous how active he is ; and in dignity the King’s Grace 
himself could not surpass him.” 

“You were the noblest couple in the room, love,” the lady 
cried. 

“That pea-green doublet, slashed with orange tawney, those 
ostrich plumes, blue, red, and yellow, those parti-colored hose 
and- pink shoon, became the noble baron wondrous well,” Fa- 
tima acknowledged. “ It must be confessed that, though mid- 
dle-aged, he hath all the agility of youth. But alas, madam 1 
The noble baron hath had nine wives already.” 

“And your cousin would give her eyes to become the 
tenth,” the mother replied. 

“ My cousin give her eyes ! ” Fatima exclaimed. “ It’s not 
much, I’m sure, for she squints abominably.” And thus the 
ladies prattled, as they rode home at night after the great ball 
at the house of the Baron of Barbazure. 

The gentle reader, who has overheard their talk, will under- 
stand the doubts which pervaded the mind of the lovely Fatima, 
and the well-nurtured English maiden will participate in the 
divided feelings which rent her bosom. ’Tis true, that on his 
departure for the holy wars, Romane and Fatima were plighted 
to each other ; but the folly of long engagements is proverbial ; 
and though for many months the faithful and affectionate girl 
had looked in vain for new^s from him, her admirable parents 
had long spoken with repugnance of a match which must bring 
inevitable poverty to both parties. They had suffered, ’tis true, 
the engagement to subside, hostile as they ever were to it ; but 
when on the death of the ninth lady of Barbazure, the noble 
baron remarked Fatima- at the funeral, and rode home with her 
after the ceremony, her prudent parents saw how much wiser, 
better, happier for their child it would be to have for life a 
partner like the baron, than to wait the doubtful return of the 
penniless wanderer to whom she was plighted. 

Ah ! how beautiful and pure a being ! how regardless of 
self ! how true to duty ! how obedient to parental command, is 
that earthly angel, a well-bred woman of genteel family ! In- 
stead of indulging in splenetic refusals or vain regrets for her 
absent lover, the exemplary Fatima at once signified to her ex- 
cellent parents her willingness to obey their orders ; though 
she had sorrows (and she declared them to be tremendous), 
the admirable being disguised them so well, that none knew 
they oppressed her. She said she would try to forget former 
ties, and (so strong in her mind was duty above every other 
feeling ! — so strong may it be in every British maiden !) the 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


50 

lovely girl kept her promise. “ My former engagements/' she 
said, packing up Romahe’s letters and presents, (which, as the 
good knight was mortal poor, were in sooth of no great price) 
— “ my former engagements I look upon as childish follies ; — ■ 
my affections are fixed where my dear parents graft them — on 
the noble, the princely, the polite Barbazure. ’Tis true he is 
not comely in feature, but the chaste and well-bred female 
knows how to despise the fleeting charms of form. ’Tis true 
he is old ; but can woman be better employed than in tending 
her aged and sickly companion } That he has been married is 
likewise certain — ^but ah, my mother ! who knows not that he 
must be a good and tender husband, who, nine times wedded, 
owns that he cannot be happy without another partner .? ” 

It was with these admirable sentiments the lovely Fatima 
proposed obedience to her parents’ will, and consented to re> 
ceive the magnificent marriage-gift presented to her by her gal- 
lant bridegroom. 


III. 

The old Countess of Chacabacque had made a score of 
vain attempts to see her hapless daughter. Ever, when she 
came, the porters grinned at her savagely through the grating 
of the portcullis of the vast embattled gate of the Castle of 
Barbazure, and rudely bade her begone. “ The Lady of Bar- 
bazure sees nobody but her confessor, and keeps her chamber,” 
was the invariable reply of the dogged functionaries to the en- 
treaties of the agonized mother. And at length, so furious was 
he at her perpetual calls at his gate, that the angry Lord of 
Barbazure himself, who chanced to be at the postern, armed a 
cross-bow, and let fly an arblast at the crupper of the lady’s 
palfrey, whereon she fled finally, screaming, and in terror. “ I 
will aim at the rider next time ! ” howled the ferocious baron, 
“ and not at the horse ! ” And those who knew his savage 
nature and his unrivalled skill as a bowman, knew that he 
would neither break his knightly promise nor miss his aim. 

Since the fatal day when the Grand Duke of Burgundy gave 
his famous passage of arms at Nantes, and all the nobles of 
France were present at the joustings, it was remarked that the 
Barbazure’s heart was changed towards his gentle and virtuous 
lady. 


BAKBAZUJ^E. 


51 

For the three first days of that famous festival, the redoubted 
Baron of Barbazure had kept the field against all the knights 
who entered. His lance bore everything down before it. The 
most famous champions of Europe, assembled at these joust- 
ings, had dropped, one by one, before this tremendous warrior. 
The prize of the tourney was destined to be his, and he was to 
be proclaimed bravest of the brave, as his lady was the fairest 
of the fair. 

On the third day, however, as the sun was declining over 
the Vosges, and the shadows were lengthening over the plain 
where the warrior had obtained such triumphs ; — after having 
overcome two hundred and thirteen knights of- different nations, 
including the fiery Dunois, the intrepid Walter Manny, the 
spotless Bayard, and the undaunted Duguesclin, as the con- 
queror sat still erect on his charger, and the multitude doubted 
whether ever another champion could be found to face him, 
three blasts of a trumpet were heard, faint at first, but at every 
moment ringing more clearly, until a knight in pink armor rode 
into the lists with his visor down, and riding a tremendous dun 
charger, which he managed to the admiration of all present. 

The heralds asked him his name and quality. 

“ Call me,” said he, in a hollow voice, “the Jilted Knight.” 
What was it made the Lady of Barbazure tremble at his ac- 
cents. 

The Knight refused to tell his name and qualities ; but the 
companion who rode with him, the young and noble Philibert 
de Coquelicot, who was known and respected universally 
through the neighborhood, gave a warranty for the birth and 
noble degree of the Jilted Knight — and Raoul de Barbazure, 
yelling hoarsely for a two-hundred-and-fourteenth lance, shook 
the huge weapon in the air as though it were a reed, and pre- 
pared to encounter the intruder. 

According to the wont of chivalry, and to keep the point of 
the spear from harm, the top of the unknown knight’s lance 
was shielded with a bung, which the warrior removed ; and 
galloping up to Barbazure’s pavilion, over which his shield 
hung, touched that noble cognizance with the sharpened steel. 
A thrill of excitement ran through the assembly at this daring 
challenge to a combat d routra7ice. “ Hast thou confessed. Sir 
Knight ? ” roared the Barbazure ; “ take thy ground, and look 
to thyself ; for by heaven thy last hour is come ! ” “ Poor 

youth, poor youth ! ” sighed the spectators ; “ he has called 
down his own fate.” The next minute the signal was given, 
and as the simoom across the desert, the cataract down the 


$2 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


rock, the shell from the howitzer, each warrior rushed from his 
goal. 

* * * * * # 

“Thou wilt, not slay so good a champion ? ” said the Grand 
Duke, as at the end of that terrific combat the knight in rose 
armor stood over his prostrate foe, whose helmet had rolled off 
when he was at length unhorsed, and whose bloodshot eyes 
glared unutterable hate and ferocity on his conqueror. 

“ Take thy life,” said he who had styled himself the Jilted 
Knight ; “ thou hast taken all that was dear to me.” And the 
sun setting, and no other warrior appearing to do battle against 
him, he was proclaimed the conqueror, and rode up to the 
duchess’s balcony to receive the gold chain which was the re- 
ward of the victor. He raised his visor as the smiling princess 
guerdoned him — raised it, and gave one sad look towards the 
Lady Fatima at her side ! 

“Romane de Clos-Vougeot ! ” shrieked she, and fainted. 
The Baron of Barbazure heard the name as he writhed on the 
ground with his- wound, and by his slighted honor, by his broken 
ribs, by his , roused fury, he swore revenge ; and the Lady 
Fatima, who had come to the tourney as a queen, returned to 
her castle as a prisoner. 

(As it is impossible to give the whole of this remarkable 
novel, let it suffice to say briefly here, that in about a volume 
and a half, in which the descriptions of scenery, the account of 
the agonies of the baroness, kept on bread-and-water in her 
dungeon, and the general tone of morality, are all excellently 
worked out, the Baron de Barbazure resolves upon putting his 
wife to death by the hands of the public executioner.) 

****** 

Two minutes before the clock struck noon, the savage 
baron was on the platform to inspect the preparation for the 
frightful ceremony of mid-day. 

The block was laid forth — the hideous minister of ven- 
geance, masked and in black, with the flaming glaive in his 
hand, was ready. The baron tried the edge of the blade with 
his finger, and asked the dreadful swordsman if his hand was 
sure ? A nod was the reply of the man of blood. The weeping 
garrison and domestics shuddered and shrank from him. There 
was not one there but loved and pitied the gentle lady. 

Pale, pale as a stone, she was brought from her dungeon. 
To all her lord’s savage interrogatories, her reply had been, “ I 
am innocent.” To his threats of death her answer was, “You 
are my lord ; my life is in your hands, to take or to give.” How 


BARBAZURE. 


53 


few are the wives, in our day, who show such angelic meekness ! 
It touched all hearts around her, save that of the implacable 
Barbazure ! Even the Lady Blanche (Fatima’s cousin), whom 
he had promised to marry upon his faithless wife’s demise, be- 
sought for her kinswoman’s life, and a divorce ; but Barbazure 
had vowed her death. 

“Is there no pity, sir?” asked the chaplain who had at- 
tended her. 

“ No pity ? ” echoed the weeping serving-maid. 

“ Did I not aye say I would die for my lord ? ” said the 
gentle lady, and placed herself at the block. 

Sir Raoul de Barbazure seized up the long ringlets of her 
rav.en hair. “ Now ! ” shouted he to the executioner, with a 
stamp of his foot — “ Now strike ! ” 

The man (who knew his trade) advanced at once, and 
poised himself to deliver his blow : and making his flashing 
sword sing in the air, with one irresistible, rapid stroke, it 
sheared clean off the head of the furious, the blood-thirsty, the 
implacable Baron de Barbazure ! 

Thus he fell a victim to his own jealousy ; and the agitation 
of the Lady Fatima may be imagined, when the executioner, 
flinging off his mask, knelt gracefully at her feet, and revealed 
to her the well-known features of Romand de Clos-Vougeot. 


LORDS AND LIVERIES. 


By the Authoress of “ Dukes and Dejeuners,” “ Hearts and 
Diamonds,” “Marchionesses and Milliners,” etc., etc. 


I. 

“ CORBLEU ! What a lovely creature that was in the Fitz* 
battleaxe box to-night,” said one of a group of young dandies 
M^ho were leaning over the velvet-cushioned balconies of the 
Coventry Club,” smoking their full-flavored Cubas (from 
Hudson’s) after the opera. 

Everybody stared at such an exclamation of enthusiasm 
from the lips of the young Earl of Bagnigge, who was never 
heard to admire anything except a coulis de dindonneau a la St. 
Menehould^ or a supreme de cochon en torticolis a la Piffarde ; such 
as Champollion, the chef of the “Traveller’s,” only knows how 
to dress ; or the bouquet of a flask of Medoc, of Carbonell’s 
best quality ; or a goutte of Marasquin, from the cellars of 
Briggs and Hobson. - 

Alured de Pentonville, eighteenth Earl of Bagnigge, Vis- 
count Paon of Islington, Baron Pancras, Kingscross, and a 
Baronet, was, like too many of our young men of ton, utterly 
blase, although only in his twenty-fourth year. Blest, luckily, 
with a mother of excellent principles (who had imbued his 
young mind with that Morality which is so superior to all the 
vain pomps of the world !) it had not been always the young 
earl’s lot to wear the coronet for which he now in sooth cared 
so little. His father, a captain of Britain’s navy, struck down 
by the side of the gallant Collingwood in the Bay of Fundy, left 
little but his sword and spotless name to his yoiing, lovely, and 
inconsolable widow, who passed the first years of her mourning 
in educating her child in an elegant though small cottage in 
one of the romantic marine villages of beautiful Devonshire. 


LORDS AND LIVERIES. 


55 

Her child ! What a gush of consolation filled the widow’s 
heart a^ she pressed him to it ! How faithfully did she instil 
into his young bosom those principles which had been the pole- 
star of the existence of his gallant father ! 

In this secluded retreat, rank and wealth almost boundless 
found the widow and her boy. The seventeenth Earl — ^gallant 
and in the prime of youth — went forth one day from the Eternal 
City to a steeple-chase in the Campagna. A mutilated corpse 
was brought back to his hotel in the Piazza di Spagna. Death, 
alas ! is no respecter of the Nobility. That shattered form 
was all that remained of the fiery, the haughty, the wild, Ifut 
the generous Altamont de Pentonville ! Such, such is fate ! 

The admirable Emily de Pentonville trembled with all a 
mother’s solicitude at the distinctions and honors which thus 
suddenly descended on her boy. She engaged an excellent 
clergyman of the Church of England to superintend his studies ; 
to accompany him on foreign travel when the proper season 
arrived ; to ward from him those dangers which dissipation 
always throws in the way of the noble, the idle, and the wealthy. 
But the Reverend Cyril Delaval died of the measles at Naples, 
and henceforth the young Earl of Bagnigge was without a 
guardian. 

What was the consequence ? That, at three-and-twenty, he 
was a cynic and an epicure. He had drained the cup of 
pleasure till it had palled in his unnerved hand. He had looked 
at the Pyramids without awe, at the Alps without reverence. 
He was unmoved by the sandy solitudes of the Desert as by 
the placid depths of Mediterranean’s sea of blue. Bitter, bitter 
tears did Emily de Pentonville weep, when, on Alured’s return 
from the Continent, she beheld the awful change that dissipation 
had wrought in her beautiful, her blue-eyed, her perverted, her 
still beloved boy ! 

“ Corpo di Bacco,” he said, pitching the end of his cigar 
on to the red nose of the Countess of Delawaddymore’s coach- 
man — who, having deposited her fat ladyship at No. 236 Pic- 
cadilly, was driving the carriage to the stables, before com- 
mencing his evening at the “ Fortune of War ” public-house — 
“ what a lovely creature that was ! What eyes 1 what hair 1 
Who knows her > Do you, mon cher prince ? ” 

“ E bellissima, certamente,” said the Duca de Montepulci- 
ano, and stroked down his jetty mustache. 

“ Ein gar schdnes Madchen,” said the Hereditary Grand 
Duke of Eulenschreckenstein, and turned up his carroty one. 

Elle n’est pas mal, ma foi ! ” said the Prince de Borodino, 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


56 

with a scowl on his darkling brows. “ Mon Dieu, que ces 
cigarres sont mauvais ! ” he added, as he too cast away his 
Cuba. 

“ Try one of my Pickwicks,” said Franklin Fox, with a 
sneer, offering his gold etui to the young Frenchman ; “they 
are some of Pontet’s best, prince. What, do you bear malice ? 
Come, let us be friends,” said the gay and careless young 
patrician ; but a scowl on the part of the Frenchman was the 
only reply. 

— “ Want to know who she is ? Borodino knows who she is, 
BSgnigge,” the wag went on. 

Everybody crowded round Monsieur de Borodino thus 
apostrophized. The Marquis of Alicompayne, young De Boots 
of the Life-guards, Tom Protocol of the Foreign Office ; the 
gay young Peers, Farintosh, Poldoody, and the rest ; and 
Bagnigge, for a wonder, not less eager than any one present. 

“ No, he will tell you nothing about her. Don’t you see he 
has gone off in a fury ! ” Franklin Fox continued. “ He has 
his reasons, ce cher prince : he will tell you nothing ; but I 
win. You know that I am au mieux with the dear old duchess.” 

“ They say Frank and she are engaged after the duke’s 
death,” cried Poldoody. 

“I always thought Fwank was the duke’s illicit gweat- 
gwandson,” drawled out De Boots. 

“ I heard that he doctored her Blenheim, and used to bring 
her wigs from Paris,” cried that malicious Tom Protocol, whose 
mots are known in every diplomatic salon from Petersburg to 
Palermo. 

“ Burn her wigs, and hang her poodle 1 ” said Bagnigge. 
“ Tell me about this girl, Franklin Fox.” 

“ In the first place, she has five hundred thousand acres, in 
a ring fence, in Norfolk ; a county in Scotland, a castle in 
Wales, a villa at Richmond, a corner house in Belgrave Square, 
and eighty thousand a year in the three-per-cents.” 

“ AprSs } ” said Bagnigge, still yawning. 

“ Secondly, Borodino lui fait la cour. They are cousins, 
her mother was an Armagnac of the emigration ; the old 
Marshal, his father, married another sister. I believe he was 
footman in the family, before Napoleon princified him.” 

“ No, no, he was second coachman,” Tom Protocol good- 
naturedly interposed — “ a cavalry officer, Frank, not an infantry 
man.” 

“’Faith you should have seen his fury (the young one’s, I 
mean) when he found me in the duchess’s room this evening, 


LORDS AND LIVERIES. 


57 

t6te-^-tete with the heiress, who deigned to accept a bouquet 
from this hand.” 

“It cost me three .guineas,” poor Frank said, with a shrug 
and a sigh, “ and that Covent Garden scoundrel gives no credit ; 
but she took the flowers ; — eh, Bagnigge ? ” 

“ And flung them to Alboni,” the Peer replied, with a haughty 
sneer. And poor little Franklin Fox was compelled to own 
that she had. 

The maitre (T hotel here announced that supper was served. 
It was remarked that even the coulis de dindonneau made no 
impression on Bagnigge that night. 


II. 

The sensation produced by the debut of Amethyst Pimlico 
at the court of the sovereign, and in the salons of the beau monde^ 
was such as has seldom been created by the appearance of any 
other beauty. The men were raving with love, and the women 
with jealousy. Her eyes, her beauty, her wit, her grace, her 
ton, caused a perfect /ureur.oi admiration or envy. 

Introduced by the Duchess of Fitzbattleaxe, along with her 
Grace’s daughters, the Ladies Gwendoline and Gwinever Port- 
cullis, the heiress’s regal beauty quite flung her cousins’ simple 
charms into the shade, and blazed with a splendor which caused 
all “ minor lights ” to twinkle faintly. Before a day the beaJt 
monde, before a week even the vulgarians of the rest of the 
town, rang with the fame of her charms ; and while the dandies 
and the beauties were raving about her, or tearing her to pieces 
in May Fair, even Mrs. Dobbs (who had been to the pit of 
the “ Hoperer ” in a green turban and a crumpled yellow 
satin) talked about the hairess to her D. in Bloomsbury 

Square. 

Crowds went to Squab and Lynch’s, in Long Acre, to ex- 
amine the carriages building for her, so faultless, so splendid, 
so quiet, so odiously unostentatious • and provokingly simple! 
Besides the ancestral services of argenterie and vaisselle plate, 
contained in a hundred and seventy-six plate chests at Messrs. 
Childs’, Rumble and Briggs prepared a gold service, and 
Garraway, of the Haymarket, a service of the Benvenuto Cellini 
pattern, which were the admiration of all London. Before a 
month it is a fact that the wretched haberdashers in the City 
exhibited the blue stocks, called “ Heiress-killers, very chaste 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


S8 

two-and-six : ” long before that the monde had rushed to Madame 
Crinoline’s, or sent couriers to Madame Marabou, at Paris, so 
as to have copies of her dresses ; but, as the Mantuan bard 
observes, “ Non cuivis contigit,” — every foot cannot accom- 
modate itself to the chaussure of Cinderella. 

With all this splendor, this worship, this beauty ; with these 
cheers following her, and these crowds at her feet, was Ame- 
thyst happy ? Ah, no ! It is not under the necklace the most 
brilliant that Briggs and Rumble can supply, it is not in Lynch’s 
best cushioned chariot that the heart is most at ease. “ Que 
je me ruinerai,” says Fronsac in a letter to Bossuet, “ si je 
savais oil acheter le bonheur ! ” 

With all her riches, with all her splendor. Amethyst was 
wretched — wretched, because lonely; wretched, because her 
loving heart had nothing to cling to. Fler splendid mansion 
was a convent ; no male person ever entered it, except Franklin 
Fox (who counted for nothing), and the duchess’s family, her 
kinsman old Lord Humpington, his friend old Sir John Fogey, 
and her cousin, the odious, odious Borodino. 

The Prince de Borodino declared openly that Amethyst was 
engaged to him. Cribl'e de defies., it is no wonder that he should . 
choose such an opportunity to refaire sa fortune. He gave out 
that he would kill any man who should cast an eye on the 
heiress, and the monster kept his word. Major Grigg,'of the 
Lifeguards, had already fallen by his hand at Ostend. The 
O’Toole, who had met her on the Rhine, had received a ball 
in his shoulder at Coblentz, and did not care to resume so 
dangerous a courtship. Borodino could snuff a bougie at a 
hundred and fifty yards. He could beat Bertrand or Alexander 
Dumas himself with the small-sword : he was the dragon that 
watched this pomme dPr, and very few persons were now 
inclined to face a champion si redoutable. 

Over a salmi d' escargot at the “Coventry,” the dandies’ 
whom we introduced in our last volume were assembled there 
talking of the heiress ; and her story was told by Franklin Fox 
to Lord Bagnigge, who, for a wonder, was interested in the 
tale. Borodino’s pretensions were discussed, and the way in 
which the fair Amethyst was confined. Fitzbattleaxe House, 
in Belgrave Square, is — as everybody knows — the next man- 
sion to that occupied by Amethyst. A communication was 
made between the two houses. She never went out except 
accompanied by the duchess’s guard, which it was impossible 
to overcome. 

“ Impossible ! Nothing’s impossible,” said Lord Bagnigge. 


LORDS AND LIVERIES. 


59 

“ I bet you what you like you don’t get in,” said the young 
Marquis of Martingale. 

I bet you a thousand ponies I stop a week in the heiress’s 
house before the season’s over,” Lord Bagnigge replied with a 
yawn ; and the bet was registered with shouts of applause. 

But it seemed as if the Fates had determined against Lord 
Bagnigge, for the very next day, riding in the Park, his horse 
fell with him ; he was carried home to his house with a frac- 
tured limb and a dislocated shoulder; and the doctor’s bul- 
letins pronounced him to be in the most dangerous state. 

Martingale was a married man, and there was .no danger of 
his riding by the Fitzbattleaxe carriage. A fortnight after the 
above events, his lordship was prancing by her Grace’s great 
family coach, and chattering with Lady Gwinever about the 
strange wager. 

“ Do you know what a pony is. Lady Gwinever ? ” he asked. 
Her ladyship said yes : she had a cream-colored one at Castle 
Barbican ; and stared when Lord Martingale announced that 
he should soon have a thousand ponies, worth five-and-twenty 
pounds each, which were all now kept at Coutt’s. Then he 
explained the circumstances of the bet with Bagnigge. Parlia- 
ment was to adjourn in ten days ; the season would be over ! 
Bagnigge was lying ill chez lui ; and the five-and-twenty thou- 
sand were irrecoverably his. And he vowed he would buy 
Lord Binnacle’s yacht — crew, captain, guns and all. 

On returning home that night from Lady Polkimore’s, Mar- 
tingale found among the many billets upon the gold plateau in 
his anti-chambre the following brief one, which made him 
start : — 

“Dear Martingale. — Don’t be too sure of Binnacle’s 
yacht. There are still ten days before the season is over ; and 
my ponies may lie at Coutts’s for some time to come. 

“ Yours, 

“ Bagnigge. 

“ P. S. — I write with my left hand ; for my right is still 
splintered up from that confounded fall.” 


6o 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HAND'S. 


in. 

The tall footman, number four, who had come in the place 
of John, cashiered, (for want of proper moHets., and because his 
hair did not take powder well,) had given great satisfaction to 
the under-butler, who reported well of him to his chief, who 
had mentioned his name with • praise to the house-steward. 
He was so good-looking and well-spoken a young man, that the 
ladies in the housekeeper’s room deigned to notice him more 
than once ; nor was his popularity diminished on account of a 
quarrel in which he engaged with Monsieur Anatole, the enor- 
mous Walloon chasseur., who was one day found embracing 
Miss Flouncy, who waited on Amethyst’s own maid. The 
very instant Miss Flouncy saw Mr. Jeames entering the Ser- 
vants’ Hall, where Monsieur Anatole was engaged in “ aggra- 
vating” her. Miss Flouncy screamed : at the next moment the 
Belgian giant lay sprawling upon the carpet ; and Jeames, 
standing over him, assumed so terrible a look, that \\\^ chasseur 
declined any further combat. The victory was made known to 
the house-steward himself, who, being a little partial to Miss 
Flouncy herself, complimented Jeames on hisi^alor, and poured 
out a glass of Madeira in his own room. 

Who was Jeames? He had come recommended' by the 
Bagnigge people. He had lived, he said, in that family two 
years. “ But where there was no ladies,” he said, “ a gentle- 
man’s hand was spiled' for service arid Jeames’s was a very 
delicate hand ; Miss Flouncy admired it very much, and of 
course he did not defile it by menial service : he had in a young 
man who called him sir, and did all the coarse work ; and 
Jeames read the morning paper to the ladies; not spellingly 
and with hesitation, as many gentlemen do, but easily and ele- 
gantly, speaking oh the longest words without a moment’s diffi- 
culty. He could speak French, too. Miss Flouncy found, who 
was studying it under Mademoiselle Grande Jille-de-chanibre de 
confiance; for when she said to him, “ Polly voo, Fran sy, Mun- 
seer Jeames?” he replied readily, W,e, Mademaselle, j’ay 
passay boco de tong II Parry. Commong voo potty voo ? ” 
How Miss Flouncy admired him as he stood before her, the 
day after he had saved Miss Amethyst when the horses had 
run away with her in the Park ! 

Poor Flouncy, poor Flouncy ! Jeames had been but a week 
in Amethyst’s service, and already the gentle heart of the wash- 


LORDS AND LITER IE S. 


6l 


ing-girl was irrecoverably gone ! Poor Flouncy ! poor Flouncy I 
he thought not of thee. 

It happened thus. Miss Amethyst being engaged to drive 
with her cousin the prince in his phaeton, her own carriage was 
sent into the Park simply with her companion, who had charge 
of her little Fido, the dearest little spaniel in the w'orld. 
Jeames and Frederick were behind the carriage with their long 
sticks and neat dark liveries ; the horses were worth a thousand 
guineas each, the coachman a late lieutenant-colonel of cav‘ 
airy : the whole ring could not boast a more elegant turn-out. 

The prince drove his curricle, and had charge of his belle 
cousine. It may have been the red fezzes in the carriage of the 
Turkish ambassador which frightened the prince’s grays, or 
Mrs. Champignon’s new yellow liveries, which were flaunting in 
the Park, or hideous Lady Gorgon’s preternatural ugliness, 
who passed in a low pony-carriage at the time, Or the prince’s 
own want of skill, finally ; but certain it is that the horses took 
fright, dashed wildly along the mile, scattered equipages, 
dandies’ cabs, and snobs’ pheaytons. Amethyst was screaming ; 
and the prince, deadly pale, had lost all presence of mind, as 
the curricle came rushing by the spot where Miss Amethyst’s 
carriage stood. 

“ I’m blest,” Frederick exclaimed to his companion, “ if it 
ain’t the prince a-drivin our missis ! They’ll be in the Serping- 
tine, or dashed to pieces, if they don’t mind.” And the run- 
away steeds at this instant came upon them as a whirlwind. 

But if those steeds ran at a whirlwind pace, Jeames was 
swifter. To jump from behind, to bound after the rocking, 
reeling curricle, to jump into it aided by the long stick which 
he carried and used as a leaping-pole, and to seize the reins 
out of the hands of the miserable Borodino, who shrieked 
piteously as the dauntless valet leapt on his toes and into his 
seat, was the work of an instant. In a few minutes the mad, 
swaying rush of the horses was reduced to a swift but steady 
gallop ; presently into a canter, then a trot ; until .finally they 
pulled up smoking and trembling, but quite quiet, by the side 
of Amethyst’s carriage, which came up at a rapid pace. 

“ Give me the reins, malappris ! tu m’ecrases le corps, 
nianant ! ”■ yelled the frantic nobleman, writhing underneath 
the intrepid charioteer. 

“ Tant pis pour toi, nigaud,” w'as the reply. The lovely 
Amethyst of course had fainted ; but she recovered as she was 
placed in her carriage, and rewarded her preserver with a ce- 
lestial smile. 


62 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


The rage, the fury, the maledictions of Borodino, as he saw 
the latter — a liveried menial — stoop gracefully forward and kiss 
Amethyst’s hand, may be imagined rather than described. But 
Jeames heeded- not his curses. Having placed his adored mis- 
tress in the carriage, he calmly resumed his station behind. 
Passion or danger seemed to have no impression upon that 
pale marble face. 

Borodino went home furious ; nor was his rage diminished, 
when, on coming to dinner that day, a recherche banquet served 
in the Frangipani best style, and requesting a supply of a puree 
a la bisque aux ecrevisses, the clumsy attendant who served him 
let fall the assiette of vermeille cisele, with its scalding contents, 
over the prince’s chin, his Mechlin jabot., and the grand cordon 
of the Legion of Honor which he wore. 

“ Infame,” howled Borodino, “ tu I’as fait exprbs ! ” 

“ Oui, je I’ai fait expr^s,” said the man, with the most per- 
fect Parisian accent. It was Jeames. 

Such insolence of course could not be passed unnoticed 
even after the morning’s service, and he was chassed on the 
spot. He had been but a week in the house. 

The next month the newspapers contained a paragraph 
which may possibly elucidate the above mystery, and to the 
following effect — 

Singular Wager. — One night, at the end of last season, 
the young and eccentric Earl of B-gn-gge laid a wager of 
twenty-five thousand pounds with a broken sporting patrician, 
the dashing Marquis of M-rt-ng-le, that he would pass a week 
under the roof of a celebrated and lovely young heiress, who 
lives not a hundred miles from B-lgr-ve Squ-re. The bet hav- 
ing been made, the earl pretended an illness, and having taken 
lessons from one of his lordship’s own footmen (Mr. James 
Plush, whose name he also borrowed) in ‘ the mysteries of the 
profession,^ actually succeeded in making an entry into Miss 
P-ml-co’s mansion, where he stopped one week exactly ; having 
time to win his bet, and to save the life of the lady, whom we 
hear he is about to lead to the altar. He disarmed the Prince 
of Borodino in a duel fought on Calais sands — and, it is said, 

appeared at the C club wearing his plush costume under a 

cloak, and displaying it as a proof that he had won his wager.” 

Such, indeed, were the circumstances. The young couple 
have not more than nine hundred thousand a year, but they 
live cheerfully, and manage to do good ; and Emily de Ponton- 
ville, who adores her daughter-in-law and her little grand- 
children, is blest in seeing her darling son enjin un homfn£ rangL 


CRINOLINE. 

By Je-mes Pl-sh, Esq. 


I. 

I’m not at libbaty to divulj the reel names of the 2 Eroes of 
the igstrawny Tail which I am abowt to relait to those un- 
lightnd paytrons of letarature and true connyshures of merrit 
— the great Brittish public — But I pledj my varacity that this 
singlar story of rewmantic love, absobbing pashn, and likewise 
of genteel life^ is, in the main fax, trew. The suckmstanzas I 
elude to, ocurd in the rain of our presnt Gratious Madjisty 
and her beluvd and roil Concert Prince Halbert. 

Welthen. Some time in the seazen of 18 — (mor I dar not 
rewheel) there arrived in this metropulus, per seknd class of 
the London and Dover Railway, an ellygant young foring gen- 
tleman, whom I shall danomminate Munseer Jools De Chac- 
abac. 

Having read through “ The Vicker of Wackfield ” in the 
same oridganal English tung in which this very harticle I write 
is wrote too, and halways been remarkyble, both at collidge and 
in the estamminy, for his aytred and orror of perfidgus Halbion, 
Munseer Jools was considered by the prapriretors of the news- 
paper in which he wrote, at Parris, the very man to come to 
this country, igsamin its manners and customs, cast an i upon 
the politticle and finanshle stat of the Hempire, and igspose 
the mackynations of the infymous Palmerston, and the ebom- 
minable Sir Pill — both enemies of France ; as is every other 
Britten of that great, gloarus, libberal, and peasable country. 
In one word, Jools de Ghacabac was a penny-a-liner. 

“ I will go see with my own Ps,” he said, “that infimus 
hiland of which the innabitants are shojikeepers, gorged with 

* (63) 


64 


NOFELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


roast beef and treason. I will go and see the murderers of 
the Hirish, the pisoners of the Chynese, the villians who put 
the Heinperor to death in Saintyleany, the artful dodges who 
wish to smother Europe with their cotton, and can’t sleep or 
rest heasy for henvy and hatred of the great inwinsable French 
nation. I will igsammin, face to face, these hotty insularies ; I 
will pennytrate into the secrets of their Jessy whittickle cabi- 
net, and beard Palmerston in his denn.” When he jumpt on 
shor at Foaxton (after having been tremenguously sick in the 
four-cabbing), he exclaimed, “ Enfin je te tiens. He maudite ! 
je te crache h la figure, vieille Angleterre ! Je te foule k mes 
pieds au nom du monde outragd,” and so proseaded to inwade 
the metropulus. 

As he wisht to micks with the very chicest sosiaty, and 
git the best of infamation about tliis country, Munseer Jools of 
coarse went and lodgd in Lester Square — Lester Squarr, as he 
calls it — which, as he was infommed in the printed suckular 
presented to him by a very greasy but polite comishner at the 
Custumus Stares, was in the scenter of the town, contiggus td 
the Ouses of Parlyment, the prinsple theayters, the parx, St. 
Jams Pallice, and the Corts of Lor. “ I can surwhey them all 
atone cut of the eye,” Jools thought; “the Sovring, the in- 
famus Ministers plotting the destruction of my immortial coun- 
try ; the business and pleasure of these pusproud Londoners 
and aristoxy ; I can look round and see all.” So he took a 
three-pair back in a French hotel, the “ Hotel de I’Ail, kep by 
Monsieur Gigotot, Cranbourne Street, Lester Squarr, London. 

In this otell there’s a billiard-room on the first floor, and a 
tabble-doat at eighteenpence per edd at 5 o’clock ; and the land- 
lord, who kem into Jools’s room smoaking a segar, told the 
young gent that the house was friquented.by all the Brittish 
nobillaty, who reglar took their dinners there. “ They can’t 
ebide their own quiseen^^^ he said. “ You’ll see what a dinner 
we’ll serve you to-day.” Jools wrote off to his paper — 

“ The members of the haughty and luxurious English aris- 
tocracy, like all the rest of the world, are obliged to fly to France 
for the indulgence of their luxuries. The nobles of England, 
quitting their homes, their wives, miladies and mistriss^ so fair 
but so cold, dine universally at the tavern. That from which I 
write is frequented by Peel and Palmerston. I frhnis to think 
that I may meet them at the board to-day.” 

Singlar to say. Peel and Palmerston didn’t dine at the 
“ Hotel de I’Ail ” on that evening. “ It’s quite igstronnary 
they don’t come,” said Munseer de I’Ail. 


CRINOLINE. 


65 

Peraps they’re ingaged at some boxing-match, or some 
combaw de cockj" Munseer Jools sejested ; and the landlord 
egreed that was very likely. 

Instedd of English there was, however, plenty of foring 
sociaty, of every nation under the sun. Most of the noble- 
men were g'/eat hamatures of hale and porter. The table-cloth 
was marked over with brown suckles, made by the pewter-pots 
on that and the previous days. 

“It is the usage here,” wrote Jools to his newspaper, 
“ among the Anglais of the fashonne to absorb immense quan- 
tities of ale and porter during their meals. These stupefying, 
but cheap, and not unpalatable liquors are served in shining 
pewter vessels. A mug of foaming hafanaf (so a certain sort 
or beer is called) was placed by the side of most of the con- 
vives. I was disappointed of seeing Sir Peel : he was engaged 
to a combat of cocks which occurs at Windsor.” . 

Not one word of English was spoke during this dinner, 
excep when the gentlemen said “ Garsong de Vafanaf'^ but 
Jool was very much pleased to meet the elect of the foringers in 
town, and ask their opinion about the reel state of thinx. Was 
it likely that the bishops were to be turned out of the Chambre 
des Communes? Was it true that Lor Palmerston had boxed 
with Lor Broghamm in the House of Lords, until they were 
sepparayted by the Lor Maire ? Who was the Lor Maire ? 
Wasn’t he Premier Minister ? and wasn’t the Archeveque de 
Cantorbery a Quaker ? He got answers to these questions 
from the various gents round about during the dinner — which, 
he remarked, was very much like a French dinner, only dirtier. 
And he wrote off all the infamation he got to his newspaper. 

“ The Lord Maire, Lord Lansdowne, is Premier Ministre. 
His Grace has his* dwelling in the City. The Archbishop of 
Cantabery is not turned Quaker^ as some people stated. Qua- 
kers may not marry, nor sit in tlie Chamber of Peers. The 
minor bishops have seats in the House of Commons, where 
they are attacked by the bitter pleasantries of Lord Brougham. 
A boxer is in the House ; he taught Palmerston the science of 
the pugilate, who conferred upon him the seat,” &c., &c. 

His writing hover, Jools came down and ad a gaym at pool 
with two Poles, a Bulgian, and 2 of his own countrymen. This 
being done amidst more hafanaf, without which nothink is done 
in England, and as there was no French play that night, he & 
the two French gents walked round and round Lester Squarr 
smoking segaws in the faces of other French gents who were 
smoaking 2. And they talked about the granjer of France and 


66 


NOVELS BY EMINENT NANES. 


the perfidgusness of England, and looked at the aluminated 
pictur of Madame Wharton as Haryadney^ till bedtime. But 
befor he slep, he finished his letter you may be sure, and called 
it his “ Fust Imprestiuns of Anglyterre.” 

“Mind and wake me early,” he said to Boots, the ony 
Brittish subject in the “ Hotel de TAil,” and who therefore 
didn’t understand him. “ I wish to be at Smithfield at 6 hours 
to see the mm sell their wives , And the young roag fell 
asleep, thinking what sort of a one he’d buy. 

This was the way Jools passed his days, and got infamation 
about Hengland and the Henglish — walking round and round 
Lester Squarr all day, and every day with the same company, 
occasionally 'dewussified by an Oprer Chorus-singer or a Jew or 
two, and every afternoon in the Quadrant admiring the genteal 
sosiaty there. Munseer Jools was not over well funnisht with 
pocket-money, and so his pleasure was of the gratis sort 
cheafly. 

Well, one day as he and a friend was taking their turn 
among the aristoxy under the Quadrant — they were struck all 
of a heap by seeing — But, stop ! who was Jools’s friend ? Here 
you have pictures of both — but the Istory of Jools’s friend 
must be kep for another innings. 


II. 

Not fur from that knowble and cheerfle Squear which Mun- 
seer Jools de Chacabac had selacted for his eboad in London 
— not fur, .1 say, from Lester Squarr, is a rainje of bildings 
called Pipping’s Buildings, leading to iBlue Lion Court, leading 
to St. Martin’s Lane. You know Pipping’s Buildings by its 
greatest ornament, an am and beefouce (where Jools has often 
stood admiring the degstaraty of the carver a-cuttin the varous 
jints), and by the little fishmungur’s, where you remark the 
mouldy lobsters, the fly-blown picklesammon, the playbills, and 
the gingybear bottles in the window — above all, by the “ Con- 
stantinople ” Divan, kep by the Misses Mordeky, and well 
known to every lover of “ a prime sigaw and an exlent cup of 
reel Moky Coffy for 6//.” 

The Constantinople Divann is greatly used by the foring 
gents of Lester Squar. I never ad the good fortn to pass 
down Pipping’s Buildings without seeing a haf a duzen of ’em 
on the threshole of the extablishment, giving the street an 


CRINOLINE. 


67 

oppertunity of testing the odar of the Misses Mordeky’s prime 
Avannas. Two or three mor may be visable inside, settn on 
the counter or the chestis, indulging in their fav’rit whead, the 
rich and spisy Pickwhick, the ripe Manilly, or the flagrant and 
arheumatic Qby. 

These Divanns are, as is very well known, the knightly 
resott of the young Henglish nobillaty. It is ear a young Pier, 
after an arjus day at the House of Commons, solazes himself 
with a glas of gin-and-water (the national beveridge), with 
cheerful conversation on the ewents of the day, or with an arm- 
less gaym of baggytell in the back parlor.” 

So wrote at least our friend Jools to his newspaper, the 
Horriflam ; and of this back parlor and baggytell-bord, of this 
counter, of this' “ Constantinople ” Divan, he became almost 
as reglar a frequenter as the plaster of Parish Turk who sits 
smoking a hookey between the two blue coffee-cups in the 
winder. 

I have oftin, smokin my own shroot in silents in a corner 
of the Diwann, listened to Jools and his friends inwaying 
aginst Hingland, and boastin of their own immortial country. 
How they did go on about Wellintun, and what an arty con- 
tamp they ad for him ! — how they used to prove that France 
was the Light, the Scenter-pint, the Igsample and Hadmiration 
of the whole world ! And though I scarcely take 'a French 
paper nowadays (I lived in early days^ as groom in a French 
famly three years, and therefore knows the languidg), though, 
I say, you can’t take up Jools’s paper, the Orrifiam., without 
readin that a minister has committed bribery and perjury, or 
that a littery man has committed perjury and murder, or that a 
Duke has stabbed his wife in fifty places, or some story equally 
horrible ; yet for all that it’s admiral to see how the French 
gents will swagger — how they will be the scenters of civiliza- 
tion — how they will be the Igsamples of Europ, and nothink 
shall prevent ’em^ — knowing they will have it, I say I listen, 
smokin my pip in silence. But to our tail. 

Reglar every evening there came to the “ Constantanople ” 
a young gent etired in the igth of fashn ;• and indead present- 
ing by the cleanlyness of his appearants and linning (which 
was generally a pink or blew shurt, with a cricketer or a dan- 
suse pattern) rather a contrast to the dinjy and wistkcard 
sosiaty of the Diwann. As for wiskars, this young mann had 
none beyond a little yallow tought to his chin, which you woodn 
notas, only he was always pulling at it. His statue was dimin- 
native, but his coschume supubb, for he had the tippiest Jane 


68 


NOVELS BY EMINENT BANDS. 


boots, the ivoryheadest canes, the most gawjus scarlick Jon- 
ville ties, and the most Scotch-plaidest trowseys, of any cus- 
tomer of that establishment. He was univusaly called Milord. 

“ Qui est ce jeune seigneur Who is this young hurl who 
comes knightly to the “ Constantanople,” who is so proddigl of 
his gold (for indeed the young gent would frequinly propoase 
gininwater to the company), and who drinks so much gin ? ” 
asked' Munseer Chacabac of a friend from the “ Hotel de 
hAil.” ; 

“ His name is Lord Yardham,” answered that friend. “ He 
never comes here but at night — and why 1 ” 

“ Y ? ” igsclaimed Jools, istonisht. 

“ Why ? because he is engaygd all day — and do you know 
where he is engaygd all day } ” 

“ Where ? ’’ asked Jools. 

“ At the Foring Office — now do you beginn to under- 
stand ? ” — ^Jools trembled. 

He speaks of his uncle, the head of that office. — “ Who is 
the head of that offis ? — Palmerston.” 

“ The nephew of Palmerston ! ” said Jools, almost in a fit. 

‘‘LorYardham pretends not to speak French,” the other 
went on. “ He pretends he can only say wee and commong 
porty voo. Shallow humbug ! — I have marked him during our 
conversations, — When we have spoken of the glory of France 
among the nations, I have seen his eye kindle, and his perfidi- 
ous lip curl with rage. When they have discussed before him, 
the Imprudents ! the affairs of Europe, and Raggybritchovich 
has shown us the next Circassian Campaign, 'or Sapousne has 
laid bare the plan of the Calabrian patriots for the next insur- 
rection, I have marked this stranger — this Lor Yardham. He 
smokes, ’tis to conceal his countenance ; he drinks gin, ’tis to 
hide his face in the goblet. And be sure, he carries every 
word of our conversation to the perfidious Palmerston, his 
uncle.” 

“ I will beard him in his den,” thought Jools. “ I will meet 
him corps-a-corps — the tyrant of Europe shall suffer through his 
nephew, and I will shoot him as dead as Dujarrier.” 

When Lor Yardham came to the “ Constantanople ” that 
night, Jools i’d him savidgely from edd to foot, while Lord 
Yardham replied the same. It wasn’t much for either to do — 
neyther being more than 4 foot ten hi — Jools was a grannydear 
in his company of the Nashnal Card, and was as brayv as a 
lion. 

“ Ah, I’Angleterre, I’Angleterre, tu nous dois une revanche,” 


CRINOLINE, 69 

said Jools, crossing his arms and grinding his teeth at Lord 
Yardham. 

“Wee,’^ said Lord Yardham; “wee.” 

“ Delenda est Carthago ! ” howled out Jools. 

“ Oh, wee,” said the Erl of Yardham, and at the same mo^ 
ment his glass of ginawater coming in, he took a drink, saying, 
“ A voter santy, Munseer : ” and then he offered it like a man 
of fashn to Jools. 

A light broak on Jools’s mind as he igsepted the refreshmint. 
“ Sapoase,” he said, “ instedd of slaughtering this nephew of 
the infamous Palmerston, I extract his secrets from him ; sup- 
pose I pump him — suppose I unveil his schemes and send them 
to my paper? La France may hear the name of Jools de 
Chacabac, and the star of honor may glitter on my bosom.” 

So, axepting Lord Yardham’s cortasy, he returned it by 
ordering another glass of gin at his own expence, and tl;ieyboth 
drank it on the counter, where Jools talked of the affaers of 
Europ all night. To everything he said, the Earl of Yardham 
answered, “ Wee, wee ; ” except at the end of the evening, when 
he squeeged his & and said, “ Bong swore.” 

“ There’s nothing like goin amongst ’em to cquire the reel 
pronounciation,” his lordship said, as he let himself into his 
lodgings with his latch-key. “ That was a very eloquent young 
gent at the ‘ Constantinople,’ and I’ll patronize him.” 

“Ah, perfide, je te demasquerai ! ” Jools remarked to him- 
self as he went to bed in his “ Hotel de I’Ail.” And they met 
the next night, and from that heavning the young men were con- 
tinyually together. 

Well, one day, as they were walking in the Quadrant, Jools 
talking, and Lord Yardham saying, “ Wee, wee,” they were 
struck all of a heap by seeing — 

But my paper is igshosted, and I must dixcribe what they 
sor in the nex number. 


III. 

THE CASTLE OF THE ISLAND OF FOGO. 

The travler who pesews his dalitefle coarse through the fair 
rellum of Franse (as a great romantic landskippist and neam- 
sack of mind would say) never chaumed his i’s with a site more 
lovely, or vu’d a pallis more magniffiznt than that which was the 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


70 

buthplace of the Eroing of this Trew Tale. Phansy a country 
through whose werdant planes the selvery Garonne wines, like 
— like a benevvolent sarpent. In its plasid busura antient 
cables, picturask willidges, and waving woods are reflected. 
Purple hills, crownd with inteak ruings ; rivvilets babbling 
through gentle greenwoods ; wight farm ouses, hevvy with 
hoverhanging vines, and from which the appy and peaseful 
okupier can cast his glans over goolden waving cornfealds, and 
M. Herald meddows in which the lazy cattle are graysinn ; while 
the Sheppard, tending his snoughy flox, wiles away the leisure 
mommx on his loot — these hoffer but a phaint pictur of the 
rurial felissaty in the midst of widge Crinoline and Hesteria de 
Viddlers were bawn. 

Their Par, the Marcus de Viddlers, Shavilearof the Legend 
of Honor and the Lion of Bulgum, the Golden Flease, Grand 
Cross of the Eflant and' Castle, and of the Catinbagpipes of 
Hostria, Grand Chamberleng of the Crownd, and Major-Gen- 
aril of Hoss-Mareens, &c., &c., &c., — ^is the twenty-foth or fith 
Marquis that has bawn the Tittle ; is disended lenyally from 
King Pipping, and has almost as antient a paddygree as any 
which the Ollywell Street trends of the Member of Buckinum- 
sheer can supply. 

His Marchyniss, the lovely & ecomplisht Emily de St. 
Cornichon, quitted this mortial spear very soon after she had 
presented her lord with the two little dawling Cherrybins above 
dixcribed, in whomb, after the loss of that angle his wife, the 
disconslit widderer found his only jy on huth. In all his emuse- 
mints they ecumpanied him ; their edjacation was his Sole bis- 
niss ; he atcheaved it with the assistnce of the ugliest and 
most lernid masters, and the' most hidjus and egsimplary gov- 
ernices which money could procure. R, how must his peturnle 
art have bet, as these Budds, which he had nurrisht, bust into 
buty, and twined in blooming fiagrance round his pirentle Busm 1 

The villidges all round his hancestral Alls blessed the 
Marcus and his lovely hoffsprig. Not one villidge in their nay- 
brood but was edawned by their elygint benifisns, and where 
the inhabitnts wern’t rendered appy. It was a pattern pheas- 
antry. All the old men in the districk were wertuous & tocka- 
tive, and had red stockins and i-eeled drab shoes, and beautiful 
snowy air. All the old women had peaked ats, and crooked 
cains, and chince gowns tucked into the pockits of their quiltid 
petticoats ; they sat in picterask porches, pretendin to spinn, 
while the lads and lassis of the villidges danst under the heliums. 

tis a noble sight to whitniss that of an appy pheasantry 1 


CRINOLINE. 


71 

Not one of those rustic wassals of the Ouse of Widdlers, but ad 
his air curled and his shirt-sleaves tied up with pink ribbing as 
he led to the inacy dance some appy country gal, with a black 
velvit boddice and a redd or yaller petticoat, a hormylu cross 
on her neck, and a silver harrow in her air ! 

When the Marcus & tlier young ladies came to the villidge 
it would have done the i’s of the flanthropist good to see how 
all reseaved ’em ! The little children scattered calico flowers 
on their path, the snowy-aired old men wdth red faces and 
rinkles took off their brown paper ats to slewt the noble Mar- 
cus. Young and old led them to a woodn bank painted to look 
like a bower of roses, and when they were sett down danst 
ballys before them. O ’twas a noble site to see the Marcus too, 
smilin ellygint with fethers in his edd and all his stars on, and 
the young Marchynisses wdth their ploomes, and trains, and 
little coronicks ! 

They lived in tremenjus splendor at home in their pyturnle 
alls, and had no end of pallises, willers, and town and country 
resadences ; but their fayvorit resadence was called the Castle 
of the Island of Fogo. 

Add I the penn of the hawther of a Codlingsby himself, I 
coodn’t dixcribe the gawjusness of their aboad. They add 
twenty-four footmen in livery, besides a boy in codroys for the 
knives & shoes. They had nine meels aday — Shampayne and 
pineapples were served to each of the young ladies in bed be- 
fore they got up. Was it Prawns, Sherry-cobbler, lobster-salids, 
or maids of honor, they had but to ring the bell and call for 
what they chose. They had two new dresses every day — one 
to ride out in the open carriage, and another to appear in the 
gardens of the Castle of the Island of Fogo, which were illumi- 
nated every night like Voxhall. The young noblemen of France 
were there ready to dance with them, and festif suppers con- 
cludid the jawyus night. 

Thus they lived in ellygant ratirement until Missfortune bust 
upon this happy fammaly. Etached to his Princes and abomma- 
nating the ojus Lewyphlip, the Marcus was conspiring for the 
benefick of the helder branch of the Borebones — and what was 
the consquince ? — One night a fleat presented itself round the 
Castle of the Island of Fogo — and skewering only a couple of 
chests of jewils, the Marcus and the two young ladies in dis- 
gyise, fled from that island of bliss. And whither fled they ? — 
To England ! — England the ome of the brave, the refuge of the 
world, where the pore slave never setts his foot but he is free ! 

Such was the ramantic tail which was told to 2 friends of 


72 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


ours by the Marcus de Viddlers himself, whose daughters, 
walking with their page from Ungerford Market (where they 
had been to purchis a paper of srimps for the umble supper of 
their noble father), Yardham and his equaintnce, Munseer Jools, 
had remarked and admired. 

But how had those two young Erows become equainted 
with the noble Marcus ? — That is a mistry we must elucydate 
in a futur vollam. 


THE STARS AND STRIPES. 

By the Authors of “ The Last of the Mulligans,” “ Pilot,” ETa 


I. 

The King of France was walking on the terrace of Ver- 
sailles ; the fairest, not only of Queens, but of women, hung 
fondly on the Royal arm ; while the children of France were 
indulging in their infantile hilarity in the alleys of the mag- 
nificent garden of Le Notre (from which Niblo’s garden has been 
copied, in our own Empire city of New York), and playing at 
leap-frog with their uncle, the Count of Provence ; gaudy cour- 
tiers, emblazoned with orders, glittered in the groves, and 
murmured frivolous talk in the ears of high-bred beauty. 

“ Maria, my beloved,” said the ruler of France, taking out 
his watch, “ ’tis time that the Minister of America should be 
here.” 

“Your Majesty should know the time,” replied Maria An- 
toinette, archly, and in an Austrian accent ; “is not my Royal 
Louis the first watchmaker in his empire ? ” 

The King cast a pleased glance at his repeater, and kissed 
with courtly grace the fair hand of her who had made him the 
compliment. “ My Lord Bishop of Autun,” said he to Monsieur 
de Talleyrand P^rigord, who followed the royal pair, in his 
quality of arch-chamberlain of the empire, “ I pray you look 
through the gardens, and tell his Excellency Doctor Franklin 
that the King waits.” The Bishop ran off, with more than 
youthful agility, to seek the United States’ Minister. “ These 
Republicans,” he added, confidentially, and with something of 
a supercilious look, “ are but rude courtiers, methinks.” 

“ Nay,” interposed the lovely Antoinette, “ rude courtiers, 
Sire, they may be ; but the world boasts not of more accom- 
plished gentlemen. I have seen no grandee of Versailles that 
has the noble bearing of this American envoy and his suite, 

( 73 ) 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 


74 

They have the refinement of the Old World, with all the simple 
elegance of the New. Though they have perfect dignity of 
manner, they have an engaging modesty which I have never 
seen equalled by the best of the proud English nobles with 
whom they wage war. I am tol(^they speak their very language 
with a grace which the haughty Islanders who oppress them 
never attained. They are independent, yet never insolent ; 
elegant, yet always respectful ; and brave, but not in the least 
boastful.” 

■ “ What ! savages and all, Marie ? ” exclaimed Louis, laughs 
ing, and chucking the lovely Queen playfully under the royal 
chin. “ But here comes Doctor Franklin, and your friend the 
Cacique with him.” In fact, as the monarch spoke, the Minis- 
ter of the United States made his appearance, followed by a. 
gigantic warrior in the garb of his native woods. 

Knowing hi's place as Minister of a sovereign state, (yield- 
ing even then in dignity to none, as it surpasses all now in 
dignity, in valor, in honesty, in strength, and civilization,) the 
Doctor nodded to the Queen of France, but kept his hat on as 
he faced the French monarch, and did not cease whittling the 
cane he carried in his hand. 

“ I was waiting for you, sir,” the King said, peevishly, in 
spite of the alarmed pressure which the Queen gave his royal 
arm. , 

“ The business of the Republic, Sire, must take precedence 
even of your Majesty’s wishes,” replied Dr. Franklin. “ When 
I was a poor printer’s boy and ran errands, no lad could be 
more punctual than poor Ben Franklin ; but all other things 
must yield to the service of the United States of North America. 
I have done. What would you. Sire .? ” and the intrepid re- 
publican eyed the monarch with a serene and easy dignity, 
which made the descendant of St. Louis feel ill at ease. 

“ I wished to — to say farewell to Tatua before his departure,” 
said Louis XVI., looking rather awkward. “ Approach, Tatua.” 
And the gigantic Indian strode up, and stood undaunted before 
the first magistrate of the French nation : again the feeble 
monarch quailed before the terrible simplicity of the glance of 
the denizen of the primaeval forests. 

The redoubted chief of the Nose-ring Indians was decorated 
in his war-paint, and in his top-knot was a peacock’s feather,, 
which had been given him out of the head-dress of the beautiful 
Princess of Laraballe. His nose, from which hung the orna- 
ment from which his ferocious tribe took its designation, was 
painted a light-blue, a circle of green and orange was drawn 


THE STARS AND STRIPES^ 


'75 

round each eye, while serpentine stripes of black, white, and 
vermilion alternately were smeared on his forehead, and de- 
scended over his cheek-bones to his chin. His manly chest was 
similarly tattooed and painted, and round his brawny neck and 
arms hung innumerable bracelets and necklaces of human teeth, 
extracted (one only from each skull) from the jaws of those who 
had fallen by the terrible tomahawk at his girdle. His moc- 
casins, and his blanket, which was draped on his arm and fell 
in picturesque folds to his feet, were fringed with tufts of hair 
— the black, the gray, the auburn, the golden ringlet of beauty, 
the red lock from the forehead of the Scottish or the Northern 
soldier, the snowy tress of extreme old age, the flaxen down of 
infancy — all were there, dreadful reminiscences of the chief’s 
triumphs in war. The warrior leaned on his enormous rifle, 
and faced the King. 

“ And it was with that carabine that you shot Wolfe in ’57 ? ” 
said Louis, eyeing the warrior and his weapon. “ ’Tis a clumsy 
lock, and methinks I could mend it,” he added mentally. 

“ The chief of the French pale-faces speaks truth,” Tatua 
said. “Tatua was a boy when he went first on the war-path 
with Montcalm.” 

“ And shot a Wolfe at the first fire ! ” said the King. 

“ The English are braves, though their faces are white,” re- 
plied the Indian. “ Tatua shot the raging Wolfe of the English ; 
but the other w^olves caused the foxes to go to earth.” A smile 
played round Dr. Franklin’s lips, as he whittled his cane with 
more vigor than ever. 

“ I believe, your Excellency, Tatua has done good service 
elsewhere than at Quebec,” the King said, appealing to the 
American Envoy ; “ at Bunker’s Hill, at Brandywine, at York 
Island ? Now that Lafayette and my brave Frenchmen are 
among you, your Excellency need have no fear but that the war 
will finish quickly — yes, yes, it will finish quickly. They will 
teach you discipline, and the way to conquer.” 

“ King Louis of France,” said the Envoy, clapping his hat 
down over his head, and putting his arms a-kimbo, “we have 
learned that from the British, to whom we are superior in every- 
thing ; and I’d have your Majesty to know that in the art of 
whipping the world we have no need of any French lessons. If 
your reglars jine General Washington, ’tis to larn from hhn how 
Britishers are licked ; for I’m blest \iyu know the way yet.” 

Tatua said, “Ugh,” and gave a rattle with the butt of his 
carabine, which made the timid monarch start ; the eyes of the 
lovely Antoinette flashed fire, but it played round the head of 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS, 


76 

the dauntless American Envoy harmless as the lightning which 
he knew how to conjure away. 

The King fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out a Cross of 
the Order of the Bath. “ Your Excellency wears no honor,” 
the monarch said ; “but Tatua, who is not a subject, only an 
ally, of the United States, may. Noble Tatua, I appoint you 
Knight Companion of my noble Order of the Bath. Wear this 
cross upon your breast in memory of Louis of France and 
the King held out the decoration to the Chief. 

Up to that moment the Chief’s countenance had been impas- 
sible. No look either of admiration or dislike had appeared 
upon that grim and war-painted visage. But now, as Louis 
spoke, Tatua’s face assumed a glance of ineffable scorn, as, 
bending his head, he took the bauble. 

“ I will give it to one of my squaws,” he said. “ The pa- 
pooses in my lodge will play with it. Come, Medecine, Tatua 
will go and drink fire-water ; ” and, shouldering his carabine, he 
turned his broad back without ceremony upon the monarch and 
his train, and disappeared down one of the walks of the garden. 
Franklin found him when his own interview with the French 
Chief Magistrate was over ; being attracted to the spot where 
the Chief was, by the crack of his well-known rifle. He was 
laughing in his quiet way. He had shot the Colonel of the 
Swiss Guards through his cockade. 

Three days afterwards, as the gallant frigate, the “ Repu- 
diator,” was sailing out of Brest Harbor, the gigantic form of 
an Indian might be seen standing on the binnacle in conversa-' 
tion with Commodore Bowie, the commander of the noble ship. 
It was Tatua, the chief of the Nose-rings. 


11 . 

Leatherlegs and Tom Coxswain did not accompany Tatua 
when he went to the Parisian metropolis on a visit to the father 
of the French pale-faces. Neither the legs nor the Sailor cared 
for the gayety and the crowd of cities ; the stout mariner’s home 
was in the futtock-shrouds of the old “ Repudiator.” The stern 
and simple trapper loved the sound of the waters better than the 
jargon of the French of the old country. “ I can follow the 
talk of a Pawnee,” he said, “or wag my jaw, if so be necessity 
bids me to speak, by a Sioux’s council-fire ; and I can patter 


THE STARS AND STRIPES. 


77 

Canadian French with the hunters who come for peltries to 
Nachitoches or Thichimuchimachy ; but from the tongue of a 
Frenchwoman, with white flour on her head, and war-paint on 
her face, the Lord deliver poor Natty Pumpo.” 

“ Amen and amen ! ” said Tom Coxswain. “ There was a 
woman in our aft-scuppers when I went a-whalin in the little 
* Grampus’ — and Lord love you, Pumpo, you poor land-swab, 
she was as pretty a craft as ever dowsed a tarpauling — there was 
a woman on board the ‘ Grampus,’ who before we’d struck our 
first fish, or biled our first blubber, set the whole crew in a mu- 
tiny. I mind me of her now. Natty, — her eye w^as sich a pier- 
cer that you could see to steer by it in a Newfoundland fog ; 
her nose stood out like the ‘Grampus’s’ jib-boom, and her woice, 
Lord love you, her woice sings in my ears even now : — it set 
the Captain a-quarrelin with the Mate, wlio was hanged in 
Boston harbor for harpoonin of his officer in Baffin’s Bay ; — it 
set me and Bob Bunting a-pouring broadsides into each other’s 
old timbers, whereas me and Bob was worth all the women that 
ever shipped a hawser. It cost me three years’ pay as I’d 
stowed away for the old mother, and might have cost me ever 
so much more, only bad luck to me, she went and married a 
little tailor out of Nantucket ; and I’ve hated women and tailors 
ever sincffi! ” As he spoke, the hardy tar dashed a drop of 
brine from his tawny cheek, and once more betook himself to 
splice the taffrail. 

Though the brave frigate lay off Havre de Grace, she was 
not idle. The gallant Bowie and his intrepid crew made re- 
peated descents upon the enemy’s seaboard. The coasts of 
Rutland and merry Leicestershire have still many a legend of 
fear to tell ; and the children of the British fishermen tremble 
even now when they speak of the terrible “ Repudiator.” She 
was the first of the mighty American war-ships that have taught 
the domineering Briton to respect the valor of the Republic. 

The novelist ever and anon finds himself forced to adopt 
the sterner tone of the historian, when describing deeds con- 
nected with his country’s triumphs. It is well known that 
during the two months in which she lay off Havre, the “ Re- 
pudiator” had brought more prizes into that port than had 
ever before been seen in the astonished French waters. Her ac- 
tions with the “ Dettingen ” and the “ Elector ” frigates form 
part of our country’s history ; their defence — it may be said 
without prejudice to national vanity — was worthy of Britons 
and of the audacious foe they had to encounter ; and it must be 
owned, that but for a happy fortune which presided on that 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANES. 


78 

day over the destinies of our country, the chance of the combat 
might have been in favor of the British vessels. It was not 
until the “ Elector ’’ blew up, at a quarter past three p. m., by a 
lucky shot which fell into her caboose, and communicated with 
the powder-magazine, that Commodore Bowie was enabled to 
lay himself on board the “ Dettingen, ” which he carried sword 
in hand. Even when the American boarders had made their 
lodgment on the “ Dettingen’s ’’ binnacle, it is possible that 
the battle would- still have gone against us. The British were 
still seven to one : their carronades, loaded with marline-spikes, 
swept the gun-deck, of which we had possession, and decimated 
our little force ; when a rifle-ball from the shrouds of the 
“ Repudiator” shot Captain Mumford under the star of the 
Guelphic Order which he wore, and the Americans, with a 
shout, rushed up the companion to the quarter-deck, upon 
the astonished foe. Pike and cutlass did the rest of the 
bloody work. Rumford, the gigantic first-lieutenant of the 
Dettingen,” was cut down by Commodore Bowie’s own sword, 
as they engaged hand to hand : and it was Tom Coxswain who* 
tore down the British flag, after having slain the Englishman 
at the wheel. Peace be to the souls of the brave ! The com- 
bat was honorable alike to the victor and the vanquished : and 
it never can be said that an American warrior depreciated a 
gallant foe. The bitterness of defeat was enough to the 
haughty islanders who had to suffer. The people of Herne 
Bay were lining the shore, near which the combat took place, 
and cruel must have been the pang to them when they saw the 
Stars and Stripes rise over the old flag of the Union, and the 
“Dettingen” fall down the river in tow of the Republican 
frigate. 

Another action Bowie contemplated ; the boldest and most 
daring perhaps ever imagined by seaman. It is this which has 
been so wrongly described by European annalists, and of 
which the British until now have maintained the most jealous 
secrecy. 

Portsmouth Harbor was badly defended. Our intelligence 
in that town and arsenal gave us precise knowledge of the dis- 
position of the troops, the forts, and the ships there ; and it 
was determined to strike a blow which should shake the Brit- 
ish power in its centre. r 

That a frigate of the size of the “ Repudiator ” should 
enter the harbor unnoticed, or could escape its guns unscathed, 
passed the notions of even American temerity. But upon the 
memorable 26th of June, 1782, the “Repudiator ” sailed out of 


THE STATS A HE STRIPES. 


79 


Plavre Roads in a thick fog, under cover of vvhicli she entered 
and cast anchor in Bonchurch Bay, in the Isle of Wight. To 
surprise the Martello Tower and take the feeble garrison 
thereunder, was the work of Tom Coxswain and a few of his 
blue-jackets. The surprised garrison laid down their arms 
before him. 

It was midnight before the boats of the ship, commanded 
by Lieutenant Bunker, pulled off from Bonchurch with muffled 
oars, and in another hour wei^e off the Common Hard of Ports- 
mouth, having passed the challenges of the “Thetis,” the 
“ Amphion ” frigates, and the “ Polyanthus ” brig. 

There had been on that day great feasting and merri- 
ment on board the Flag-ship lying in the harbor. A banquet 
had been given in honor of the birthday of one of the princes 
of the royal line of the Guelphs — the reader knows the pro- 
pensity of Britons when liquor is in plenty. All on board that 
royal ship were more or less overcome. The Flag-ship was 
plunged in a death-like and drunken sleep. The very officer 
of the watch was intoxicated : he could not see the “ Repudia- 
tor’s ” boats as they shot swiftly through the waters ; nor had 
he time to challenge her seamen as they swarmed up the huge 
'sides of the ship. 

At the next moment Tom Coxswain stood at the wheel of 
the “ Royal George ” — the Briton who had guarded, a corpse 
at his feet. The hatches were down. The ship was in posses- 
sion of the “ Repudiator’s ” crew. They were busy in her rig- 
ging, bending her sails to carry her out of the harbor. The 
well-known heave of the men at the windlass, woke up Kem- 
penfelt in his state cabin. We know, or rather do not know, 
the result ; for who can tell by whom the lower-deck ports of 
the brave ship were opened, and how the haughty prisoners 
below sunk the ship and its conquerors rather than yield her 
as a prize to the Republic ? 

Only Tom Coxswain escaped of victors and vanquished. 
His tale was told to the Captain and to the Congress, but 
Washington forbade its publication ; and it was but lately that 
the faithful seaman told it to me, his grandson, on his hundred- 
and-fifteenth birthday. 


6 


A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL. 


In a Letter from the eminent Dramatist Brown to the emhunt Novelisl 

Snooks. 


“ Cafi dess Aveugles. 

My DEAR Snooks, 

“ I AM on the look-out here for materials for original com- 
edies such as those lately produced at your theatre ; and, in the 
course of my studies, I have found something, my dear Snooks, 
which I think will suit your book. You are bringing, I see, 
your admirable novel, ‘ The Mysteries of May Fair,’ to an end — 
(by the way, the scene, in the 200th number, between the Duke, 
his Grandmother, and the Jesuit Butler, is one of the most 
harrowing and exciting I ever read) — and, of course, you must 
turn your real genius to some other channel; and we may 
expect that your pen shall not be idle. 

“ The original plan I have to propose to you, then, is taken 
from the French, just like the original dramas above mentioned ; 
and, indeed, I found it in the law report of the National news- 
paper, and a French literary gentleman, M. Emanuel Gon- 
zales, has the credit of the invention. He and an advertisement 
agent fell out about a-question of money, the affair was brought 
before the courts, and the little plot so got wind. But there is 
no reason why you should not take the plot and act on it your- 
self. You are a known man ; the public relishes your works ; 
anything bearing the name of Snooks is eagerly read by the 
masses ; and though Messrs. Hookey, of Holywell Street, pay 
you handsomely, I make no doubt you would like to be re- 
warded at a still higher figure. 

“ Unless he writes with a purpose, you know, a novelist in 
our days is good for nothing. This one writes with a socialist 
purpose ; that with a conservative purpose : this author or 
authoress with the most delicate skill insinuates Catholicism 
into you, and you find yourself all but a Papist in the third 

^o) 


A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL. 8 i 

volume : another doctors you with Low Church remedies to 
work inwardly upon you, and v/hich you swallow down unsus- 
piciously, as children do calomel in jelly. Fiction advocates 
all sorts of truth and causes — don’t the delightful bard of the 
Minories find Moses in everything ? M. Gonzales’s plan, and 
the one which I recommend to my dear Snooks, simply was to 
write an advertisement novel. Look over The Times or the 
* Directory,’ walk down Regent Street or Fleet Street any 
day — see what houses advertise most, and put yourself into 
communication with their proprietors. With your rings, your 
chains, your studs, and the tip on your chin, I don’t know any 
greater swell than Bob Snooks. Walk into the shops, I say, 
ask for the principal, and introduce yourself, saying, ‘ I am the 
great Snooks ; I am the author of the “ Mysteries of May 
Fair;” my weekly sale is 281,000 ; I am about to produce a 
new work called “ The Palaces of Pimlico, or the Curse of the 
Court,” describing and lashing fearlessly the vices of the aris- 
tocracy : this book will have a sale of at least 530,000 ; it will 
be on every table — in the boudoir of the pampered duke, as in 
the chamber of the honest artisan. The myriads of foreigners 
who are coming to London, and are anxious to know about our 
national manners, will purchase my book, and carry it to their 
distant homes. So, Mr. Taylor, or Mr. Haberdasher, or Mr, 
Jeweller, how much will you stand if I recommend you in my 
forthcoming novel ? ’ You may make a noble income in this 
^ay, Snooks. 

“ For instance, suppose it is an upholsterer. What more 
easy, what more delightful, than the description of upholstery ? 
As thus : — 

“ ‘Lady Emily was reclining on one of Down and Eider’s 
voluptuous ottomans, the only couch on which Belgravian 
beauty now reposes, when Lord Bathershins entered, stepping 
noiselessly over one of Tomkins’s elastic Axminster carpets. 
“ Good heavens, my lord ! ” she said — and the lovely creature 
fainted. The Earl rushed to the mantel-piece, where he saw a 
flacon of Otto’s eau-de-Cologne, and,’ &c. 

“ Or say it’s a cheap furniture-shop, and it may be brought 
in just as easy. As thus : — 

“ ‘ We are poor, Eliza,” said Harry Hardhand, looking 
affectionately at his wife, ‘ but we have enough, love, have we 
not, for our humble wants ? The rich and luxurious may go to 
Dillow’s or Gobiggin’s, but we can get our rooms comfortably 
furnished at Timmonson’s for 20/.’ And putting on her bon- 
net, and hanging affectionately on her husband, the stoker’s 


82 


NOVELS BY EMINENT HANES. 


pretty bride tripped gayly to the well-known mart, where Tim- 
monson, with his usual affability, was ready to receive them. 

“ Then you might have a touch at the wine-merchant and 
purveyor. ‘ Where did you get this delicious claret, or pMi de 
foi gras., or what you please ? ’ said Count Blagowski to the gay 
young Sir Horace Swellmore. The voluptuous Bart answered, 

‘ At So-and-so’s, or So-and-So’s.’ The answer is obvious. You 
may furnish your cellar or your larder in this way. Begad, 
Snooks ! I lick my lips at the very idea ? 

“ Then as to tailors, milliners, bootmakers, &c., how easy 
to get a word for them ! Amramson, the tailor, waited upon 
Lord Paddington with an assortment of his unrivalled waist- 
coats, or clad in that simple but aristocratic style of which 
Schneider a/one has the secret. Parvy Newcome really looked 
like a gentleman, and though corpulent and crooked, Schnei- 
der had managed to give him, &c.’ Don’t you see what a stroke 
of business you might do in this way. 

“The shoemaker. — Lady Fanny flew, rather than danced, 
across the ball-room ; only a Sy Ip hide, or Taglioni, or a lady 
chausseed by Chevillett of Bond Street, could move in that fairy 
way ; and 

“ The hairdresser. — ‘ Count Barbarossa is seventy years of 
age,’ said the Earl. ‘ I remember him at the Congress of 
Vienna, and he has not a single gray hair.’ Wiggins laughed. 

‘ My good Lord Baldock,’ said the old wag, ‘ I saw Barbarossa’s 
hair coming out of Ducroissant’s shop, and under his valet’s 
arm — ho ! ho ! ho ! ’ — and the two bon-vivans chuckled as the 
Count passed by, talking with, &c., &c. 

“ The gunmaker. — ‘ The antagonists faced each other ; and 
undismayed before his gigantic enemy, Kilconnel raised his 
pistol. It was one of Clicker’s manufacture, and Sir Marma- 
duke knew he could trust the maker and the weapon. “ One,' 
two, threeP cried O’Tool, and the two pistols went off at that 
instant, and uttering a terrific curse, the Lifeguardsman,’ &c. — 
A sentence of this nature from your pen, my dear Snooks, would, 
I should think, bring a case of pistols and a double-barrelled 
gun to your lodgings ; and, though heaven forbid you should 
use such weapons, you might sell them, you know, and we 
could make merry with the proceeds. 

“ If my hint is of any use to you, it is quite at your service, 
dear Snooks ; and should anything come of it, I hope you will 
remember your friend.” « 


THE DIARY 


OF 

C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ, 


WITH HIS LETTERS. 






•v . 


.->■ va- '/■* ■ ;/■ 

• . ■ '. ■ •-• ^» "*■ ; .-..K ■■' ■’ -i’ll 'i' ^ ■ 

L* '■'■ ’''•• • 'V ■' ' " ■ 'iiS.' 

‘“, :,■ •, »?■ »';. Jr. V. . - .....;; ^y^ v 

I , • • ■••''>»# Litii .‘^' - ''^. '/ * *. 

»•»■** »■ ** I ' ‘ ' •*• . • ■ • i • ' ; * I * • V » * - i ♦ H - ^- 




' V 


jVi 


* iV 

/ >'•'. '* \ . t- 


.V-./.' ■ '"‘"mSnSv. ■ .. 

• ‘ 'A ‘ii* * ■ 


'' ' \i *vw * 

' t •• ' ■ - • 

'■ ■'■ •** AV - .>- - ■ 

v;j ? .i,.v'.(.-^ ' f V • ' 

^ :,.l , ■ 

' ■■ , -i, .• . ■’i 


V ,.-N 

\ • 

• ^ i-* f ^ ^ i 7 . 

^ 'I K* «4 -V .-vAi r 

* *. .. !*► J 


#L • ' ^ 


.. ^ ^ -4 

,: ^ V -T 




V -u. 

k 

I • ^ 

f •- 


• • 


■% 




.<,• 


■■■.■■■',':’ ■ ' . '. '"r^ ■ : y\ , - 

', , '■:s' .’ ; ' ' '.'i- ) ^'^y' '' ^ y.^r^< ■ :.f-- , > 

* ^ V * * • *■ '^ ‘ f i ' * 

■ :' i'f V* K •*'* ‘5v-;' ^ ti’ 

'•^•«yl%w,k »i-'i t ^ •.■• 4 ‘'i * t. 

•• '••'' -- -■• "'■'* • <>■:;■■ f. ^'t-Cv; 

• -T “ ■ » ' I ‘ ' 1 '• • 

,, A . ^ I'* • '—- 

I . 7 “ ^ ^ • , < > • ^ 


• . ** \ '- 
' » •• i . • 

' '. ' V I 

J 


■ .I' 

% 

' J- 


Jk. 


> . 
•/ 







V ' 

: • / 



^ A 


1 :\ 

> 

. V>S- ;^v/^ 

.-..-f' -• ’ 

V. ,. .* ^ 


> , 


, %. * 


i. > 


• '..i \ ‘i- •' -- 

• v^* ' ^ « • \ . I , 

* . • ., - .* 


■5, 


r. L* 

« 

• ,1 
yv 


-.V 


I , 

% 


* 

% 

« ‘ 




» 


1 ♦ ' • t 

V ::c* I 






•fc* ‘ 


t. V'Vs'fX.>;' .,>• 

1 . » . * ' I \ 

.. si; jw 

'‘V 


^':'3 

• ^ 

• I* 


tt 




* 


< • 

* ■ * t 


*iy' i*f 

•• • ' . 


,*• •' 


• '• 


f * 


; V'rv: y;"'/ y ^.yiy* 

-v.', liV - ^'.y. .;:. .i*j ■ 

* ' •/ 


» : 



. . . 


1 

. % |IV"' 

■ 


* ♦ ^ 

. *• 

- T- '*• '.^^ ' 

. • • • * * . 

V- ■ 

/ •* V,*-'*' 

^ _ , ,« P-. 



■•:- - 
, j • ^ , 

f. - . • ‘ 

. .1 • ' 

’ • '. *4 

j ■ •; ,ii'.' -./ 

A 1 

, • *1 • 

* >- 

’ • ; 

• 

• 

, » 

* * * *i • 




■u'^> 



' A: 


V ‘ 

*’ ^• 

o.v 


\» 


r^.VV* ’/i'- / ■ 4 .■■" .* y-4*1r4j ' 

■*' Tv . ; - 

' ' ' ' • * 'i*. “ ; ' 









THE DIARY 


OF 

C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ. 


A LUCKY SPECULATOR. 

“ Considerable sensation has been excited in the upper and lower circles in the 
West End, by a startling piece of good fortune which has befallen James Plush, Esq., 
lately footman in a respected family in Berkeley Square. 

“ One day last week, Mr. James waited upon his master, who is a banker in the 
City ; and after a little blushing and hesitation, said he had saved a little money in 
service, was anxious to retire, and to invest his savings to advantage. 

“ His master (we believe we may mention, without offending delicacy, the well- 
known name of Sir George Flimsy, of the house of Flimsy, Diddler, and Flash,) 
smilingly asked Mr. James what was the amount of his savings, wondering considera- 
bly how, out of an income of thirty guineas — the main part of which he spent in 
bouquets, silk stockings, and perfumery — Mr. Plush could have managed to lay by 
anything. 

“ Mr. Plush, with some hesitation, said he had been speculating in railroads^ and 
stated his winnings to have been thirty thousand pounds. He had commenced his 
speculations with twenty, borrowed from a fellow-servant. He had dated his letters 
from the house in Berkeley Square, and humbly begged pardon of his master for not 
having instructed the railway Secretaries who answered his applications to apply at 
the area-bell. 

“ Sir George, who was at breakfast, instantly rose, and shook Mr. P. by the hand ; 
Lady Flimsy begged him to be seated, and partake of the breakfast which he had 
laid on the table ; and has subsequently invited him to her grand dcj^ner at Rich- 
mond, where it was observed that Miss Emily Flimsy, her beautiful aira accomplished 
seventh daughter, paid the lucky gentleman marked attention. 

“ We hear it stated that Mr. P. is of a very ancient family (Hugo de la Pluche 
came over with the Conqueror) ; and the new brougham which he has started bears 
the ancient coat of his race. 

“ He has taken apartments in the Albany, and is a director of thirty-three railroads. 
He proposes to stand for parliament at the next general election on decidedly con- 
servative principles, which have always been the politics of his family. 

“ Report says, that even in his humble capacity Miss Emily Flimsy had remarked 
his high demeanor. Well, * None but the brave,’ say we, ‘ deserve the fair.’ ” — Morn- 
ing Paper. 

This announcement will explain the following lines, which 
have been put into our box* with a West Eiid post-mark. If, 

* The letter-box of Mr. Punch, in whose columns these papers were first published. 

(85) 


86 


THE DIARY OF 


as we believe, they are written by the young woman from whom 
the millionaire borrowed the sum on which he raised his for- 
tune, what heart will not melt with sympathy at her tale, and 
pity the sorrows which she expresses in such artless language ? 


If it be not too late; if wealth have not rendered its pos- 
sessor callous ; if poor Maryanne be still alive ; we trust, we 
"trust Mr. Plush will do her justice. 



J., h;' 

vjJ c;; 


fl;:: 


? •> 


I-’-: ■ i ' 





,^i n-; 


“ JEAMES of BUCKLEY SQUARE. 

“a HfeLIGY. , .. 

“ Come all ye gents vot cleans the plate, 
Come all ye ladies’ maids §o fair — 

Vile I a story vil relate 

Of cruel Jeames of Buckley Square. 

A tighter lad, it is contest,'" .1 

Neer valked with powder in his air, ■' 
Or vore a nosegay in his breast, 

Than andsum Jeames of Buckley Squar«, 

“ O Evns ! it vas the best of sights, 

Behind his Master’s coach and pair, 

To see our Jeames in red plush tights, 

A driving hoff from Buckley Square. 

He vel became his hagwillkts. 

He cocked his at with suc/t a hair ; 

His calves and viskers 7>ns such pets, i 
That hall loved Jeames of Buckley Square. 

♦ 

“ He pleased the’hup-stairs folks as veil. 

And o ! I vithered vith despair. 

Missis voicld ring the parler bell. 

And call up Jeames in Buckley Square. 
Both beer and sperrits he abhord 
(Sperrits and beer I can’t a bearj, 

You would have thought he vas a lord 
Down in our All in Buckley Square. 

“ Last year he visper’d, ‘ Mary Ann, 

Ven I’ve an under’ d pound to spare. 

To take a public is my plan. 

And leave this hojous Buckley Square. 

O how my gentle heart did bound. 

To think that I his name should bear. 

‘ Dear Jeames,’ says I, ‘ I’ve twenty pound,' 
And gev them him at.Bucldey Square. 

“ Our Master vas a City gent. 

His name’s in railroads everywhere. 

And lord, vot' lots of letters ‘vent 

Betwigst his brokers and Buckley Square 1 
My Jeames it was the letters took, 

. And read them all, (T think it’s fair,) 

And took a leaf from Master’s book. 

As bothers do in Buckley Square. 


C. yEAilES DE LA PLUCllE. 


87 


“ Encouraged with my twenty pound 
Of which poor / was unavare, 

He wrote the Companies all round, 

And signed hisself from Buckley Square. 

And how John Porter used to grin, 

As day by day, share after share, 

Came railvay letters pouring in, 

‘ J. Plush, Esquire, in Buckley Square.’ 

“ Our servants’ All was in a rage — 

Scrip, stock, curves, gradients, bull and bear, 

Vith butler, coachman, groom and page, 

Vas all the talk in Buckley Square. 

But 0 I imagine vot I felt 
Last Vensday veek as ever were ; 

I gits a letter, which I spelt 
‘ Miss M. A. Hoggins, Buckley Square.’ 

“ He sent me back my money true — 

He sent me back my lock of air, 

And said, ‘ My dear, 1 bid ajew 

To Mary Harm and Buckley Square. 

Think not to marry, foolish Hann, 

With people who your betters are ; 

James Plush is now a gentleman. 

And you — a cook in Buckley Square. 

‘‘‘ I’ve thirty thousand guineas won. 

In six short months, by genus rare ; ' 

You little thought what jeames was on, 

I’oor Mary Hann, in Buckley Square. 

I’ve thirty thousand guineas net. 

Powder and plush I scorn to vear ; 

And so. Miss Mary Hann, forget 
For hever Jeames, of Buckley Square.’ ” 

* * * * * 

The rest of the MS. is illegible, being literally washed 
away in a flood of tears. 


A LETTER FROM “JEAMES, OF BUCKLEY SQUARE.” 

“ Albany, Letter X. Angust 10, 1845. 

“ Sir, — Has a reglar suscriber to your emusing paper, I beg 
leaf to state that I should never have done so, had I sup- 
posed that it was your abbit to igspose the mistaries of privit 
life, and to hinjer the delligit feelings of umble individyouals 
like myself, who have 7io ideer of being made the subject of 
newspaper criticism. 

“ I elude, sir, to the unjustafiable use wh'ich has been made 
of my name in your Journal, where both my muccantile spec- 
lations and the hinmost pashsti of my art have been brot for- 
rards in a ridicklus way for the public emusemint. 

“What call, sir, has the public to inquire into the suckm- 


88 


THE DIARY OF 


stansies of my engagements with Miss Mary Hann Oggins, oi 
to meddle with their rupsher ? Why am I to be maid the 
hobjick of your redicule m a doggril halUt impewted to her ? I 
say impewted^ because, in my time at least, Mary Hann could 
only sign her + mark (has IVe hoften witnist it for her when 
she paid hin at the Savings bank), and has for sacrificing ic 
the Mewses and making poatry^ she was as hincapible as Mr. 
Wakley himself. 

“ With respect to the ballit, my baleaf is, that it is wrote 
by a footman in a low famly, a pore retch who attempted to 
rivle me in my affections to Mary Hann — a feller not five foot 
six, and with no more calves to his legs than a donkey — who 
was always a-ritin (having been a doctor’s boy) and who I 
nockt down with a pint of porter (as he well recklex) at the 3 
Tuns Jerming Street, for daring to try to make a but of me. 
He has signed Miss H’s name to his nonsince and lies: and 
you lay yourself hopen to a haction for lible for insutting them 
in your paper. 

“ It is false that I have treated Miss H. hill in hany way. 
That I borrowed 2olb of her is irew. But she confesses I paid 
it back. Can hall people say as much of the money they'^ve lent 
or borrowed ? No. And I not only paid it back, but giv her 
the andsomest pres’nts : which I never should have eluded to, but 
for this attack. Fust, a silver thimble (which I found in 
Missus’s work-box) ; secknd, a vollom of Byrom’s poems ; third, 
I halways brought her a glas of Curasore, when we ad a party, 
of which she was remarkable fond. I treated her to Hashley’s 
twice (and halways a srimp or a hoyster by the way), and a 
thowsnd deligii attentions^ which I sapose count for nothmk. 

“ Has for marridge. Haltered suckmstancies rendered it 
himpossable. I w^as gone into a new spear of life — mingling 
with my native aristoxy. I breathe no sallible of blame against 
Miss H., but his a hilliterit cookinaid fit to set at a fashnable 
table } Do young fellers of rank genrally marry out of the 
Kitching ? If we cast our i’s upon a low-born gal, I needn say 
it’s only a tempoiy^ distraction, pore passy le tong. So much for 
her claims upon me. Has for that beest of a Doctor’s boy he’s 
unwuthy the notas of a Gentleman. 

“ That I’ve one thirty thousand lb, and praps more., I dont 
deny. Ow much has the Kilossus of Railroads one, I should 
like to know, and what was his cappitle ? I hentered the 
market with 2olb, specklated Jewdicious, and ham what I ham. 
So may you be if you have 2olb, and praps you haven’t) — So 
may you be : if you choose to go in & win. 


C yEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 


89 

“ I for my part am jusly prowd of my suxess, and could give 
you a hundred instances of my gratatude. Forigsample, the 
fust pair of bosses I bought (and a better pair of steppers I 
dafy you to see in hany curracle), I crisn’d Hull and Selby, in 
grateful elusion to my transackshns in that railroad. My riding 
Cob I called very unhaptly my Dublin and Galway. He came 
down with me the other day, and I’ve jest sold him at dis* 
count. 

“At fust with prudence and modration I only kep two 
grooms for my stables, one of whom lickwise waited on me at 
table. I have now a confidenshle servant, a vally de shamber 
— He curls my air; inspex my accounts, and hansers my 
hinvitations to dinner. I call this vally my Tre?it Valley^ for it 
was the prophit I got from that exlent line, which injuiced me 
to ingage him. 

“ Besides my North British Plate and breakfast equipidge 
have two handsom suvvices for dinner — the goold plate for 
Sundays, and the silver for common use. When I ave a great 
party, ‘ Trent,’ I say to my man, ‘ we wall have the London and 
Bummingham plate to-day (the goold), or else the Manchester 
and Leeds (the silver).’ I bought them after realizing on the 
abuf lines, and if people suppose that the companys made me 
a presnt of the plate, how can I help it ? 

“ In the sam way I say, ‘ Trent, bring us a bottle of Bristol 
and Hexeter ! ’ or, ‘ Put some Heastern Counties in hice I ’ He 
knows what I mean : it’s the wines I bought upon the hospi- 
cious tummination of my connexshn with those two railroads. 

“ So strong, indeed, as this abbit become, that being asked 
to stand Godfather to the youngest Miss Diddle last weak, I 
had her christened (provisionally) Rosamell — from the French 
line of which I am Director ; and only the other day, finding 
myself rayther unwell, ‘ Doctor,’ says I to Sir Jeames Clark, 

* I’ve sent to consult you because my Midlands are out of border ; 
and I want you to send them up to a premium.’ The Doctor 
lafd, and I beleave told the story subsquintly at Buckinum 
P-ll-s. 

“ But I will trouble you no father. My sole objict in writ- 
ing has been to dear my carrater — to show that I came by my 
money in a honrable way : that I’m not ashaymd of the manner 
in which I gayned it, and ham indeed grateful for my good 
fortune. 

“ To conclude, I have ad my podigree maid out at the 
Erald Hoffis (I don’t mean the Morning Erald\ and have took 
for my arms a Stagg. You are corrict in stating that I am of 


90 


THE DIARY OF 


hancient Normin famly. This is more than Peal can say, to 
whomb I applied for a barnetcy ; but the primmier being of low 
igstraction, natrally stickles for his border. Consurvative 
though I be, I may change my opinions before the next Election, 
when I intend to hoffer myself as a Candydick for Parlymint. 

Meanwhile, I have the honor to be. Sir, 

“ Your most obeajnt Survnt, 

“ Fitz-James de la Pluche/’ 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCIIE. 


91 


THE DIARY. 

One day in the panic week, our friend Jeames called at 
our office, evidently in great perturbation of mind and disorder 
of dress. He had no flower in his button-hole ; his yellow kid 
gloves were certainly two days old. He had not above three 
of the ten chains he usually sports, and his great coarse knotty- 
knuckled old hands were deprived of some dozen of the rubies, 
emeralds, and other cameos with which, since his elevation to 
fortune, the poor fellow has thought fit to adorn himself. 

“ How’s scrip, Mr, Jeames ? ” said we pleasantly, greeting 
our esteemed contributor. 

“ Scrip be ,” replied he, with an expression we cannot 

repeat, and a look of agony it is impossible to describe in print, 
and walked about the parlor whistling, humming, rattling his 
keys and coppers, and showing other signs of agitation. At 
last, “A/r. Funch^'^ says he, after a moment’s hesitation, “I 
w'ish to speak to you on a pint of businiss. I wish to be paid 
for my contribewtions to your paper. Suckmstances is altered 
with me. I — I — in a word, can you lend me — /. for the ac- 
count ? ” 

He named the sum. It was one so great that we don’t care 
to mention it here ; but on receiving a check for the amount (on 
Messrs. Pump and Aldgate, our bankers), tears came into the 
honest fellow’s eyes. He squeezed our hand until he nearly 
wrung it off, and shouting to a cab, he plunged into it at our 
office-door, and was off to the City. 

Returning to our study, we found he had left on our table 
an open pocket-book, of the contents of which (for the sake of 
safety) we took an inventory. It contained — three tavern-bills, 
paid ; a tailor’s ditto, unsettled ; forty-nine allotments in differ- 
ent companies, twenty-six thousand .seven hundred shares in 
all, of which the market value we take, on average, to be dis- 
count ; and in an old bit of paper tied with pink ribbon a lock 
of chestnut hair, with the initials M. A. H. 

In the diary of the pocket-book was a journal, jotted down 
by the proprietor from time to time. At first the entries are in- 


THE DIARY OF 


92 

significant : as, for instance : — “ 3^ January — Our beer in the 
Suvnts’ Hall so precious small at this Christmas time that I 
reely muss give warning, & wood, but for my dear Mary Hann.” 
“ February 7 — That broot Screw, the Butler, wanted to kis her, 
but my dear Mary Hann boxt his hold hears, & served him 
right. I dates t Screw,” — and so forth. Then the diary relates 
to Stock Exchange operations, until we come to the time when, 
having achieved his successes, Mr. James quitted Berkeley Square 
and his livery, and began his life as a speculator and a gentle- 
man upon town. It is from the latter part of his diary that 
we make the following 

EXTRAX 

“ Wen I anounced in the Servnts All my axeshn of forting, 
and that by the exasize of my own talince and ingianiuty I had 
reerlized a summ of 20,000 lb. (it was only 5, but what’s the 
use of a mann depreshiating the qualaty of his own mackyrel T) 
— wen I enounced my abrup intention tg cut — you should have 
sean the sensation among hall the people ! Cook wanted to 
know whether I woodn like a sweatbred, or the slise of - the 
breast of a Cold Tucky. Screw, the butler (womb I always 
detested as a hinsalant hoverbaring beest), begged me to walk 
into the Hupper Servnts All, and try a glass of Shuperior 
Shatto Margo. Heven Visp, the coachmin, eld out his and, & 
said, ‘Jeames, I hopes theres no quarraling betwigst you & 
me, & I’ll stand a pot of beer with pleasure.’ 

“ The sickofnts ! — that wery Cook had split on me to the 
Housekeeper ony last week (catchin me priggin some cold 
tuttle soop, of which I’m remarkable fond). Has for the butler, 
I always ebomminated him for his precious snears and imper- 
ence to all uS Gents who woar livry (he never would sit in our 
parlor, fasooth, nor drink out of our mugs) ; and in regard of 
Visp — why, it was ony the day before the wulgar beest hoffered 
to fite me, and thretnd to give me a good iding if I refused, 
‘ Gentlemen and ladies,’ says I, as haughty as may be, ‘ there’s 
nothink that I want for that I can’t go for to buy with my hown 
money, and take at my lodgins in Halbany, letter Hex ; if I’m 
ungry I’ve no need to refresh myself in the kitchmg’ And so 
saying, I took a dignified ajew of these minnial domestics ; and 
ascending to my epartment in the 4 pair back, brushed the 
powder out of my air, and taking off those hojous livries for 
hever, put on a new soot, made for me by Cullin of St. Jeames 
Street, and which fitted my manly figger as tight as whacks. 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 


93 


“There was one pusson in the house with womb I was 
rayther anxious to evoid a persnal leave-taking — Mary Hann 
Oggins, I mean — for my art is natural tender, and I can’t 
abide seeing a pore gal in pane. I’d given her previous the 
infamation of my departure — doing the ansom thing by her at 
the same time — paying her back 20 lb., which she’d lent me 
6 months before : and paying her back not only the interest, 
but I gave her an andsome pair of scissars and a silver thimbil^ 
by way of boanus. ‘ Mary Hann,’ says I, suckimstancies has 
altered our rellatif positions in life. I quit the Servnts Hall 
forever, (for has for your marrying a person in my rank, that, my 
dear, is hall gammin,) and so I wish you a good-by, my good 
gal, and if you want to better yourself, halways refer to me.’ 

“ Mary Hann didn’t hanser my speech (which I think was 
remarkable kind), but looked at me in the face quite wild like, 
and bust into somethink betwigst a laugh & a cry, and fell 
down with her ed on the kitching dresser, where she lay until 
her young Missis rang the dressing-room bell. Would you 
bleave it ? She left the thimbil & things, & my check for 2olb. 
I os., on the tabil when she went to hanser the bell. And now 
I heard her sobbing and vimpering in her own room nex but 
one to mine, vith the dore open, peraps expecting I should 
come in and say good-by. But, as soon as I was dressed, I cut 
down stairs, hony desiring Frederick, my fellow-servnt, to 
fetch me a cabb, and requesting permission to take leaf of my 
lady & the famly before my departure.” 

* * * * * 

“ How Miss Hemly did hogle me to be sure ! Her ladyship 
told me what a sweet gal she was — hamiable, fond of poetry, 
plays the gitter. Then she hashed me if I liked blond bewties 
and haubin hair. Haubin, indeed ! I don’t like carrits ! as it 
must be contest Miss Hemly’s his — and has for a blond buty, 
she has pink I’s like a Halbino, and her face looks as if it were 
dipt in a brann mash. How she squeeged my & as she went 
away ! 

“ Mary Hann now has haubin air, and a cumplexion like 
roses and hivory, and I’s as blew as Evin. 

“ I gev Frederick two and six for fetchin the cabb — been 
resolved to hact the gentleman in hall things. How he stared ! ” 

“ 2$fh . — I am now director of forty-seven hadvantageous 
lines, and have past hall day in the Citty. Although I’ve hate 
or nine new soots of close, and Mr. Cullin fits me heligant, yet 
I fansy they hall reckonize me. Conshns whispers to me, 
‘ Jeams, you’r hony a footman in disguise hafter all.’ ” 


94 


THE DIARY OF 


“ 2%th . — Been to the Hopra. Music tol lol. That Lablash 
is a wopper at singing. I coodn make out why some people 
called out ‘ Bravo/ some ‘ Bravar/ and some ‘ Bravee.’ ‘Bra- 
vee, Lablash/ says I, at which heverybody laft. 

“ I’m in my new stall. I’ve had new cushings put in, and 
my harms in goold on the back. I’m dressed all in black, 
excep a gold waistcoat and dimind studds in the embriderd 
busom of my shameese. I wear a Camallia Jiponiky in my 
button- ole, and have a double-barreld opera-glas, so big, that I 
make Timmins, my secnd man, bring it in the other ca;bb. 

“What an igstronry exabishn that Bawdy Carter is! If 
those four gals are faries, Tellioni is sutnly the fairy Queend. 
She can do all that they can do, and somethink they can’t. 
There’s an indiscrible grace about her, and Carlotty, my sweet 
Carlotty, she sets my art in flams. 

“ Ow that Miss Hemly was noddin and winkin at me out of 
their box on the fourth tear } 

“ What linx i’s she must av. As if I could mount up there I 

“P.S. — -Talking of mounting hup ! the St. Helena’s walked 
up 4 per cent, this very day.” 

“ 2d yuly , — Rode my bay oss Desperation in the park. 
There was me. Lord George Ringwood (Lord Cinqbar’s son), 
Lord Ballybunnion, Honorable Capting ITap, & sevral bother 
young swells. Sir John’s carridge there in coarse. Miss 
Hemly lets fall her booky as I pass, and I’m obleged to get hoff 
and pick it hup, & get splashed up to the his. The gettin on 
hossback agin is halways the juice & hall. Just as I was hon, 
Desperation begins a porring the hair with his 4 feet, and sinks 
down so on his anches, that I’m blest if I didn’t slip hoff agin 
over his tail; at which Ballybunnion & the bother chaps rord 
with lafter. 

“ As Bally has istates in Queen’s County, I’ve put him on 
the St. Helena direction. We call it the ‘ Great St. Helena 
Napoleon Junction/ from Jamestown to Longwood. The 
French are taking it hup heagerly.” 

6 th July . — Dined to-day at the London Tavin with one 
of the Welsh bords of Direction I’m hon. The Cwrwmwrw & 
Plmwyddlywm, with tunnils through Snowding and Plinlim- 
ming. 

“ Great nashnallity of course. Ap Shinkin in the chair, 
Ap Llwydd in the vice ; Welsh mutton for dinner ; Welsh iron 
knives & forks; Welsh rabbit after dinner; and a Welsh 


C. JEAMES DE- LA PLUG HE. 


95 

harper, be hanged to him : he went strummint on his hojous 
hinstrument, and played a toon piguliarly disagreeable to me. 

“ It was Pore Mary Hann. The clarrit holmost choaked 
me as I tried it, and I very nearly wep myself . as I thought of 
her bewtifle blue i’s. Why ha?n I always thinkin about that 
gal ? Sasiety is sasiety, it’s Iprs is irresistabl. Has a man of 
rank I can’t marry a serving-made. What would Cinqbar and 
Ballybunnion say ^ 

“ P. S. — I don’t like the way that Cinqbars has of borroing 
money, & halways making me pay the bill. Seven pound six 
at the ‘ Shipp,’ Grinnidge, which I don’t grudge it, for Derby- 
shire’s brown Ock is the best in Urup ; nine pound three at 
the ‘ Trafflygar,’ and seventeen pound sixteen and nine' at the 
‘ Star and Garter,’ Richmond, with the Countess St. Emiliori 
& the Baroness Frontignac. Not one word of French could I 
speak, and in consquince had nothink to do but to make myself 
halmost sick with heating hices and desert, while the bothers 
were chattering and parlyvooing. 

“ Ha ! I remember going to Grinnidge once with Mary 
Hann, when we were more happy (after a walk in the park, 
where we ad one gingy-beer betwigst us), more appy with tea 
and a simple srimp than with hall this splender ! ” — — 


“ ^u/y 24. — My first-floor apartmince in the Halbiny is now 
kimpletely and chasely furnished — the droring-room with yellow 
satting and silver for the chairs and sophies — hemrall green 
tabbinet curlings with pink velvet & goold borders & fringes ; 
a light-blue Haxminster Carpit, embroydered with tulips; 
tables, secritairs, cunsoles, &c., as handsome as goold can 
make them, and candlesticks and shandalers of the purest 
Hormolew. 

“ The Dining-room furniture is all . /loaL, British Hoak ; 
round igspanding table, like a trick in a Pantimime, iccomma- 
dating any number from 8 to 24 — to which it is my wish to re- 
strict my parties. Curtings crimsing damask, Chairs crimsing 
myrocky. Portricks of my favorite great men .decorats the 
wall — namely, the Duke of Wellington. There’s four of his 
Grace. For I’ve remarked that if you wish to pass fora man of 
weight and considdration you should holways praise and quote 
him. I have a valluble one lickwise of my Queend, and 2 of 
Prince Halbert — has a Field Martial and halso.as a privat Gent. 
I despise the vulgar snears that are daily hullered aginst that 
Igsolted Pottentat. . Betwigxt the Prins & the Duke hangs me, 

7 


THE DIARY OF 


96 

in the Uniform of the Cinqbar Malitia, of which Cinqbars has 
made me Capting. 

“ The Libery is not yet done. 

“ But the Bedd-roomb is the Jem of the whole. If you 
could but see it ! such a Bedworr ! IVe a Shyval Dressing 
Glass festooned with Walanseens Lace, and lighted up of even- 
ings with rose-colored tapers. Goold dressing-case and twilet 
of Dresding Cheny. My bed white and gold with curtings of 
pink and silver brocayd held up a top by a goold Qpid \yho 
seems always a smilin angillicly hon me, as I lay with my Ed 
on my piller hall sarounded with the finest Mechlin. I have a 
own man, a yuth under him, 2 groombs, and a fimmale for the 
House. IVe 7 osses : in cors if I hunt this, winter I must in- 
crease my ixtablishment. 

“ N.B. Heverythink looking well in the City. Saint Hel- 
nas, 12 pm.; Madagascars, 9^; Saffron Hill and Rooker}^ 
Junction, 24 ; and the new lines in prospick equily incouraging. 


“ People phansy it’s hall gayety and pleasure the life of us 
fashnabble gents about townd — But I can tell ’em it’s not -hall 
goold that glitters. They don’t know our momints of hagony, 
hour ours of studdy and reflecshun. They little think when 
they see Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, worling round in a 
walce at Halmax with Lady Hann, or lazaly stepping a kidrill 
with Lady Jaiie, poring helegant nothinx into the Countess’s 
hear at dinner, or gallopin his boss Desperation hover the 
exorcisin ground in the park, — they little think that leader of 
the tong, seaminkly so reckliss, is a careworn mann ! and yet 
so it is. 

“ Imprymus. I’ve been ableged to get up all the ecom- 
plishments at double quick, & to apply myself with treemen- 
juous energy. 

“ First, — in border to give myself a hideer of what a gentle- 
man reely is, I’ve read the novvle of ‘ Pelham ’ six times, and 
am to go through it 4 times mor. 

“ I practis ridin and the acquirement of ‘ a steady and & a 
sure seat across Country ’ assijuously 4 times a week, at the 
Hippydrum Riding Grounds. Many’s the tumbil I’ve ad, and 
the aking boans I’ve suffered from, though I was grinnin in the 
Park or laffin at the Opra. 

“ Every morning from 6 till 9, the innabitance of Halbany 
may have been surprised to hear the sounds of music ishuing 
from the apartmince of Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, Letter 
Hex. It’s my dancing-master. From six to nine we have 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 


97 

walces ana policies — at nine ‘ mangtiang & depotment,’ as he 
calls it ; & the manner of hentering a room, complimenting the 
ost and ostess & compotting yourself at table. At nine I hem 
ter from my dressing-room (has to a party), I make my bow — 
my master (he’s a Marquis in France, and ad misfortins, being 
connected with young Lewy Nepoleum) reseaves me — I had- 
wance — speak abowt the weather & the toppix of the day in an 
elegant & cussory manner. Brekfst is enounced by Fitzwar- 
ren, my mann — we precede to the festive bord — complimence 
is igschanged with the manner of drinking wind, adressing 
your neighbor, employing your napking & finger-glas, &c. And 
then we fall to brekfst, when I prommiss you the Marquis don’t 
eat like a commoner. He says I’m gettn on very well — soon I 
shall be able to inwite people to brekfst, like Mr. Mills, my 
rivle in Halbany ; Mr. Macauly, (who wrote that sweet book 
of ballets, ‘ The Lays of Hancient Rum ; ’) & the great Mr. 
Rodgers himself. 


“ The above was wrote some weeks back. I have given 
brekfsts sins then, reglar Deshunys. I have ad Earls and 
Ycounts — Barnits as many as I chose : and the pick of the 
Railway world, of which I form a member. Last Sunday was 
a grand Fate. I had the Fleet of my friends : the display was 
sumptions ; the company reshershy. Everything that Dellixy 
could suggest was provided by Gunter. I had a Countiss on 
my right & (the Countess of Wigglesbury, that loveliest and 
most dashing of Staggs, who may be called the Railway 

Queend, as my friend George H is the Railway King,) on 

my left the Lady Blanche Bluenose, Prince Towrowski, the 
great Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone from the North, and a 
skoar of the fust of the fashn. I was in my gloary — the dear 
Countess and Lady Blanche was dying with lading at my joax 
and fun — I was keeping the whole table in a roar — when there 
came a ring at my door-bell, and sudnly Fitz warren, my man, 
henters with an air of constanation. Theres somebody at the 
door,’ says he, in a visper. 

“ ‘ Oh, it’s that dear Lady Hemily,’ says I, ‘ and that lazy 
raskle of a husband of hers. Trot them in, Fitzwarren,’ (for 
you see, by this time I had adopted quite the manners and 
hease of the arristoxy.) — And so, going out, with a look of 
wonder he returned presently, enouncing Mr. & Mrs. Blodder. 

“ I turned gashly pail. The table — the guests — the Coun- 
tiss — Towrouski, and the rest, weald round & round before my 
hagitated I’s. It was my Grandmother and She 


THE DIARY OF 


98 

is a washerwoman at Healing Common, and he — he keeps a 
wegetable donkey-cart. 

“Y,Y hadn’t John, the tiger, igscluded them? He had 
tried. But the unconscious, though worthy creeters, adwanced 
in spite of him, Huncle Bill bringing in the old lady grinning 
on his harm ! 

“ Phansy my feelinx.” 

“ Immagin when these unfortnat members of my famly 
hentered the room : you may phansy the ixtonnishment of the 
nobil company presnt. Old Grann looked round the room 
quite estounded by its horientle splender, and huncle Bill (pull- 
ing off his phantail, & selutingthe company as respeckfly as his 
wulgar natur would alow) says — ‘Crikey, Jeames, you’ve got a 
better birth here than you ad where you were in the plush and 
powder line.’ ‘Try a few of them plovers hegs, sir,’ I says, 
whishing, I’m asheamed to say, that somethink would choke 

huncle B ; ‘ and I hope, mam, now you’ve ad the kindniss 

to wisit me, a little refreshment won’t be out of your way.’ 

“ This I said, detummind to put a good fase on the matter ; 
and because in herly times I’d reseaved a great deal of kindniss 
from the hold lady, which I should be a roag to forgit. She 
paid for my schooling ; she got up my fine linning gratis ; shes 
given me many & many a lb ; and manys the time in appy appy 
days when me and Maryhann has taken tea. But never mind 
that. ‘ Mam,’ says I, ‘ you must be tired hafter your walk.’ 

“‘Walk? Nonsince, Jeames,’ says she ; ‘it’s Saturday, & 
I came in, in the cart.^ ‘ Black or green tea, maam ? ’ says Fitz- 
warren, intarupting her. And I will say the feller showed his 
nouce & good breeding in this difficklt momink ; for he’d hal- 
ready silenced huncle Bill, whose mouth was now full of 
mufiinx, am, Blowny sausag, Perrigole pie, and other dellixies. 

“ ‘ Wouldn’t you like a little somethmk in your tea. Mam,’ 
says that sly wagg Cinqbars. ‘ He knows what I likes,’ replies 
the hawfle hold Lady, pinting to me, (which I knew it very well, 
having often seen her take a glass of hojous gin along with her 
Bohee), and so I was ableeged to border Fitzwarren to bring 
round the licures, and to help my unfortnit rellatif to a bumper 
of Ollands. She tost it hoff to the elth of the company, giving 
a smack with her lipps after she’d emtied the glas, which very 
nearly caused me to phaint with hagny. But, luckaly for me, 
she didn’t igspose herself much farther : for when Cinqbars was 
pressing her to take another glas, I cried out, ‘Don’t, my lord,’ 
on which old Grann hearing him edressed by his title, cried 


c. yEAAfES DE LA PLUCHE. 


9 ^ 

out, ^ A Lord ! o law ! ’ and got up and made him a cutsy, and 
coodnt be peswaded to speak another word. The presents of 
the noble gent heavidently made her uneezy. 

“The Countiss on my right and had shownt symtms of 
ixtream disgust at the beayvior of my relations, and having 
called for her carridge, got up to leave the room, with the most 
dignified hair. I, of coarse, rose to conduct her to her weakle. 
Ah, what a contrast it was ! There it stood, with stars and 
garters hall over the pannels ; the footmin in peach-colored 
tites ; the bosses worth 3 hundred apiece ; — and there stood 
the horried linne?i-cart^ with ‘ Mary Blodder, Laundress, Ealing, 
Middlesex,’ wrote on the bord, and waiting till my abandind old 
parint should come out. 

“ Cinqbars insisted upon helping her in. Sir Huddlestone 
Fuddlestone, the great barnet from the North, who, great as he 
is, is as stewpid as a howl, looked on, hardly trusting his 
goggle I’s as they witnessed the s.ean. But little lively good 
naterd Lady Kitty Quickset, who was going away with the 
Countiss, held her little & out of the carridge to me and said, 
‘ Mr. De la Pluche, you are a much better man than I took you 
to be. Though her Ladyship is horrified, & though your 
Grandmother did take gin for breakfast, don’t give her up. No 
one ever came to harm yet for honoring their father & mother.’ 

“ And this was a sort of consolation to me, and I observed 
that all the good fellers thought none the wuss of me. Cinq- 
bars said I was a trump for sticking up for the old washer- 
woman ; Lord George Gills said she should have his linning ; 
and so they cut their joax, and I let them. But it was a great 
releaf to my mind when the cart drove hoff. 

“ There was one pint which my Grandmother observed, and 
which, I must say, I thought lickwise : ‘ Ho, Jeames,’ says she, 
‘ hall those fine ladies in sattns and velvets is very well, but 
there’s not one of em can hold a candle to Mary Hann.’ ” 


“ Railway Spec is going on phamusly. You should see how 
polite they har at my bankers now ! Sir Paul Pump Aldgate, 
& Company. They bow me out of the back parlor as if I was 
a Nybobb. Every body says I’m worth half a millium. The 
number of lines they’re putting me upon, is inkumseavable. 
I’ve put Fitzwarren, my man, upon several. Riginald Fitz- 
warren, Esquire, looks splendid in a perspectus ; and the raskle 
owns that he has made two thowsnd. 

“ How the ladies, & men too, foller and flatter me ! If I 
go into Lady Binsis hopra box, she makes room for me, who 


lOO 


THE DIARY OF 


ever is there, and cries out, ‘ O do make room for that dear 
creature i ’ And she complyments me on my taste in musick, 
or my new Broom-os, or the phansy of my weskit, and always 
ends by asking me for some shares. Old Lord Bareacres, as 
stiff as a poaker, as proud as Loosyfer, as poor as Joab — even 
he condysends to be sivvle to the great De la Pluche, and 
Begged me at Harthur’s, lately, in his sollom, pompus way, ‘ to 
favor him with five minutes’ conversation.’ I knew what was 
coming — application for shares — put him down on my private 
list. Wouldn’t mind the Scrag End Junction passing through 
Bareacres — hoped I’d come down and shoot there. 

“ I gave the old humbugg a few shares out of my own 
pocket. ‘There, old Pride,’ says I, ‘ I like to see you down on 
your knees to a footman. There, old Pompossaty ! Take fifty 
pound ; I like to see you come cringing and begging for it’ 
Whenever I see him in a very public place, I take my change 
for my money. I digg him in the ribbs, or slap his padded old 
shoulders. I call him ‘ Bareacres, my old buck ! ’ and I see 
him wince. It does my art good. 

“ I’m in low sperits. A disagreeable insadent has just oc- 
curred. Lady Pump, the banker’s wife, asked me to dinner. I 
sat on her right, of course, with an uncommon gal ner me, with 
whom I was getting on in my fassanating way — full of lacy ally 
(as the Marquis says) and easy plesntry. Old Pump, from the 
end of the table, asked me to drink shampane ; and on turning 
to tak the glass I saw Charles Wackles (with womb I’d been 
imployed at Colonel Spurriers’ house) grinning over his shoulder 
at the butler., 

“ The beest reckonized me. Has I was putting on my palto 
in the hall, he came up again : ^ How dy doo, Jeames } ’ says 
he, in a findish visper. ‘ Just come out here, Chawles,’ says I, 

‘ I’ve a word for you, my old boy.’ So I beckoned him into 
Portland Place, with my pus in my hand, as if I was going to 
give him a sovaring. 

“ ‘ I think you said “ Jeames,” Chawles,’ says I, ‘ and grind 
at me at dinner ” 

“‘Why, sir,’ says he, ‘we’re cfld friends, you know.’ 

“ ‘ Take that for old friendship then,’ says I, and I gave him 
just one on the noas, which sent him down on the pavemint as 
if he’d been shot. And mounting myjesticly into my cabb, I 
left the rest of the grinning scoundrills to pick him up, & droav 
to the Clubb.” 


“ Have this day kimpleated a little efair with my friend 


C. y£AMJSS DE LA PLUG HE, 


lOI 


George, Earl Bareacres, which I trust will be to the advantidge 
both of self & that noble gent. Adjining the Bareacre prop- 
paty is a small piece of land of about loo acres, called Squallop 
Hill, igseeding advantageous for the cultivation of sheep, which 
have been found to have a pickewlear fine flavior from the natur 
of the grass, tyme, heather, and other hodarefarus plants whicli 
grows on that mounting in the places where the rox and stones 
don’t prevent them. Thistles here is also remarkable fine, and 
the land is also divided hoff by luxurient Stone Hedges — much 
more usefie and ickonomicle than your quickset or any of that 
rubbishing sort of timber : indeed the sile is of that fine natur, 
that timber refuses to grow there altogether. I gave Bareacres 
50/. an acre for this land (igsact premium of my St. Helena 
Shares) — a very handsom price for land wEich never yielded 
two shilings an acre ; and very convenient to his Lordship I 
know, who had a bill coming due at his Bankers which he had 
given them. James de la Pluche, Esquire, is thus for the fust 
time a landed propriator — or rayther, I should say, is about to 
reshume the rank & dignity in the country which his^ Han- 
cestors so long occupied.” 

“I have caused one of our inginears to make me a plann of 
the Squallop Estate, Diddlesexshire, the property of, &c., &c.^ 
bordered on the North by Lord Bareacres’ Country ; on the 
West by Sir Granby Growler ; on the South by the Hotion. 
An Arkytect «&: Survare, a young feller of great emagination, 
womb we have employed to make a survey of the Great Caffra- 
rian line, has built me a beautiful Villar (on paper), Plushton 
Hall, Diddlesex, the seat of I de la P., Esquire. The house 
is reprasented a handsome Itallian Structer, imbusmd in woods, 
and circumwented by beautiful gardings. Theres a lake in 
front with boatsful of nobillaty and musitions doting on its 
placid sufface — and a curricle is a driving up to the grand hen- 
trance, and me in it, with Mrs., or perhaps Lady Hangelana de 
la Pluche. I speak adwisedly. I may be going to form a noble 
kinexion. I may be (by marridge) going to unight my family 
once more with Harry stoxy, from which misfortn has for some 
sentries separated us. I have dreams of that sort. 

“ IVe sean sevral times in a dalitifle vishn ser ting Erl ^ 
standing in a hattitude of bennydiction, and rattafying my 
union with a sorting butifle young lady, his daughter. Phansy 
Mr. or Sir Jeames and lady Hangelina de la Pluche ! Ho ! 
what will the old washywoman, my grandmother, say ? She 
may sell her mangle then, and shall too by my honor as a 
Gent.” 


102 


THE DIARY OF 


“As for Squallop Hill, its not to be emadgind that I was 
going to give 5000 lb. for a bleak mounting like that, unless I 
had some ideer in vew. Ham I not a Director of the Grand 
Diddlesex ? Don’t Squallop lie amediately betwigst Old Bone 
House, Single Gloster, and Scrag 'End, through which cities 
our line passes ? I will have 400,000 lb. for that mounting, or 
my name is not Jeames. I have arranged a little barging too 
for my friend the Erl, The line will pass through a hangle of 
Bareacre Park. He shall have a good compensation I promis 
you ; and then I shall get back the 3000 I lent him. His 
banker’s account, I fear, is in a horrid state.” 

[The Diary now for several days contains particulars of no 
interest to the public : — Memoranda of City dinners 
— meetings of Directors — fashionable parties in which 
Mr. Jeames figures, and nearly always by the side of 
his new friend. Lord Bareacres, whose “ pompossaty,” 
as previously described, seems to have almost entirely 
subsided.] 

We then come to the following : — 

“ With a prowd and thankfle Art, I copy off this morning’s 
Gyzett the folloing news : — 

“ ‘ Commission signed by the Lord Lieutenant of the County 
of Diddlesex. 

“ ‘ James Augustus, de la Pluche, Esquire, to be Deputy 
Lieutenant.’ ” 


“‘North Diddlesex Regiment of Yeomanry Cavalry. 

“ ‘ James Augustus de la Pluche, Esquire, to be Captain, 
vice Blowhard, promoted.’ ” 


“ And his it so ? Ham I indeed a landed propriator — a 
Deppaty Leftnant — a Capting ? May I hatend the Cort of my 
Sovring ? and dror a sayber in my country’s defens .? I wish 
the French wood land, and me at the head of my squadring on 
my boss Desperation. How I’d extonish ’em ! How the gals 
will stare when they see me in youniform ? How Mary Hann 
would — but nonsince ! I’m halways thinking of that pore gal. 
She’s left Sir John’s. She couldn’t abear to stay after I went, 
I’ve heerd say. I hope she’s got a good place. Any summ of 
money that would sett her up in bisniss, or make her comfar- 


C. JEAMRS DE LA PLUG HE. 


103 


able, I’d come down with like a maun. I told my granmothef 
so, who sees her, and rode down to Healing on purpose on 
Desperation to leave a five lb noat in an anvylope. But she 
sent it back, sealed with a thimbill.” 


“ Tuesday . — Reseavd the folloing letter from Lord B , 

rellatiff to my presntation at Cort and the Youniform I shall 
wear on that hospicious seramony : — 

“ ‘ My dear De la Pluche, 

“ ‘ I THINK you had better be presented as a Deputy 
Lieutenant. As for the Diddlesex Yeomanry, I hardly know 
what the uniform is now. The last time we were out was in 
1803, when the Prince of Wales reviewed us, and when we 
wore French gray jackets, leathers, red morocco boots, crimson 
pelisses, brass helmets with leopard-skin and a white plume, 
and the regulation pig-tail of eighteen inches. That dress 
will hardly answer at present, and must be modified, of course. 
We were called the White Feathers, in those days. For my 
part, I decidedly recommend the Deputy Lieutenant. 

“ ‘ I shall be happy to present you at the Levee and at the 
Drawing-room. Lady Bareacres will be in town for the 13th, 
with Angelina, who will be presented on that day. My wife 
has heard much of you, and is anxious to make your acquaint- 
ance. 

“ ‘ All my people are backward with their rents : for heaven’s 
sake, my dear fellow, lend me five hundred and oblige 
“ ‘Yours, very gratefully, 

“ ‘ Bareacres.’ 

“ Note. — Bareacres may press me about the Depity Left- 
nant ; but Tm for the cavvlery.” 

“ Jewly will always be a sacrid anniwussary with me. It 
was in that month that I became persnally ecquaintid with my 
Prins and my gracious Sovarink. 

“ Long before the hospitious event acurd, you may imadgin 
that my busum was in no trifling flutter. Sleaplis of nights, I 
past them thinking of the great ewent — or if igsosted natur 
did clothes my highlids— the eyedear of my waking thoughts, 
pevaded my slummers. Corts, Erls, presntations, Goldstix, 
gracious Sovarinx mengling in my dreembs unceasnly. I blush 
to say it (for humin prisumpshn never surely igseeded that of 
my wicked wickid vishn), one night I actially dremt that Her 
R. H. the Princess Hallis was grown up, and that there was a 


104 


THE DIARY OF 


Cabinit Counsel to detiimmin whether her & was to be bestoad 
on me or the Prins of Sax-Muffinhausen-Pumpenstein, a young 
Prooshn or Germing zion of nobillaty. I ask umly parding 
for this hordacious ideer. 

“ I said, in my fommer remarx, that I had detummined to 
be presented to the notus of my reveared Sovaring in a melin- 
tary coschewm. The Court-shoots in which Sivillians attend 
a Levy are so uncomming like the — the — livries (ojous wud ! I 
<8 to put it down) I used to wear before entering sosiaty, that I 
couldn’t abide the notium of wearing one. My detummination 
was fumly fixt to apeer as a Yominry Cavilry Hoffiser, in the 
galleant youniform of the North D'iddlesex Huzzas. 

“ Has that redgmint had not been out sins 1803, I thought 
myself quite hotherized to make such halterations in the youni- 
form as shuited the presnt time and my metured and elygint 
taste. Pig-tales was out of the question. Tites I was detum- 
mind to mintain. My legg is praps the finist pint about me, 
and I was risolved not to hide it under a booshle. 

“ I phixt on scarlit tites, then, imbridered with goold, as I 
have seen Widdicomb wear them at Hashleys when me and 
Mary Hann used to go there. Ninety-six guineas worth of rich 
goold lace and cord did I have .myhandering hall hover those 
shoperb inagspressables. 

Yellow marocky Heshn boots, red eels, goold spurs and 
goold taasles as bigg as belpulls. 

“Jackit — French gray and silver oringe fasings & cuphs, 
according to the old patn ; belt, green and goold, tight round 
my pusn, & settin hoff the cemetry of my figgar 7 iot disadvin- 
tajusly. 

“ A huzza paleese of pupple velvit & sable fir. A sayber of 
Demaskus steal, and a sabertash (in which I kep my Odiclone 
and imbridered pocket ankercher), kimpleat my acooterments, 
which, without vannaty, was, I flatter myself, uneak. 

“ But the cfownding triumph was my hat. I couldnt wear a 
cock At. The huzzahs dont use ’em. I wouldnt wear the 
hojous old brass Elmet & Leppardskin. I choas a hat which is 
dear to the memry of hevery Brittn ; an at which was inwented 
by my Feeld Marshle and adord Prins; an At which vulgar 
p 7 ‘ejidis dN Soaking hdiS in vane etempted to run down. I chose 
the Halbert At. I didn’t tell Bareacres of this egsabishn of 
loilty, intending to surprise him. The white ploom of the West 
Diddlesex Yomingry I fixt on the topp of this Shacko, where it 
spread hout like a shaving-brush. 

“You may be .sure th^t befor the fatle day arrived, I didnt 


r. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE, 


niglect to practus my part well \ and had sevral rehustUs,, as 
they say. 

“ This was the way. I used to dress myself in my full togs. 
I made Fitzwarren, my boddy servnt, stand at the dor, and 
figger as the Lord in Waiting. I put Mrs. Bloker, my laun- 
dress, in my grand harm chair to reprasent the horgust pusn of 
my Sovring; Frederick, my secknd man, standing on her left, 
in the hattatude of an illustrus Prins Consort. Hall the Candles 
were lighted. ‘ Captain de la Pluche,, presented by Herl Bare- 
acres,' Fitzwarren, my man, igsclaimed, as adwancing I made 
obasins to the Thrown. Nealin on one nee, I cast a glans of 
unhuttarable hoilty towards the British Crownd, then stepping 
gracefully hup, (my Dimascus Simiter ivould git betwigst my 
ligs, in so doink, which at fust was wery disagreeble) — rising 
hup grasefly, I say, I flung a look of manly but respeckfl hom- 
mitch tords my Prins, and then ellygntly ritreated backards out 
of the Roil Presents. I kep my 4 suvnts hup for 4 hours at 
this gaym the night before my presntation, and yet I was the 
fust to be hup with the sunrice. I coodnt sleep that night. By 
abowt six o’clock in the morning I was drest in my full uni- 
form j and I didnt know how to pass the interveaning hours. 

“ ‘ My Granmother hasnt seen me in full phigg,’ says I. 
‘ It will rejoice that pore old sole to behold one of her race so 
suxesfle in life. Has I ave read in the novle of “ Kennle- 
worth,” that the Herl goes down in Cort dress and extoneshes 
Hamy Robsart,, I will go down in all my splender and astownd 
my old washy woman of a Granmother.’ To make this detum- 
mination ; to border my Broom ; to knock down Frederick the 
groomb for delaying to bring it ; was with me the wuck of a 
momint. The next sor as galliant a cavyleer as hever rode in 
a cabb, showering the road to Healing. 

“ I arrived at the well-known cottitch. My huncle was hab- 
sent with the cart ; but the dor of the humble eboad stood 
hopen, and I passed through the little garding where the close 
was hanging out to dry. My snowy ploom was ableeged to 
bend under the lowly porch, as I hentered the apartmint. 

“ There was a smell of tea there — there’s always a smell of 
tea there — the old lady was at her Bohee as usual. I advanced 
tords her ; but ha ! phansy my extonishment when I sor Mary 
Hann ! 

“ I halmost faintid with himotion. ‘ Ho, Jeames ! ’ (she has 
said to me subsquintly) ‘mortial mann never looked so bewtifle 
as you did when you arrived on the day of the Levy. You were 
no longer mortial, you were diwine I ’ 


io6 


^HE DIARY OF 


“ R ! what little Justas the Hartist has done to my mannly 
etractions in the groce carriketure he’s made of me.” 

# # # # ^ 

“ Nothing, perhaps, ever created so great a sensashun as my 
hentrance to St. Jeames’s, on the day of the Levy. The Tuckish 
Hambasdor himself was not so much remarked as my shuperb 
turn out. 

“ As a Millentary man, and a North Diddlesex Huzza, I was 
resolved to come to the ground on hossback. I had Despara- 
tion phigd out as a charger, and got 4 Melentery dresses from 
Ollywell Street, in which I drest my 2 men (Fitzwarren, hout of 
livry, woodnt stand it), and 2 fellers from Rimles, where my 
bosses stand at livry. I rode up St. Jeames’s Street, with my 
4 Hadycongs — the people huzzaying — the gals waving their 
hankerchers, as if I were a Foring Prins — hall the winders 
crowdid to see me pass. 

“ The guard must have taken me for a Hempror at least, 
when I came, for the drums beat, and the guard turned out and 
seluted me with presented harms. 

“ What a momink of triumth it was ! I sprung myjestickly 
from Desperation. I gav the rains to one of my horderlies, 
and, salewting the crowd, I past into the presnts of my Most 
Gracious Mrs. 

“ You, peraps, may igspect that I should narrait at lenth the 
suckmstanzas of my hawjince wdth the British Crown. But I 
am not one who would gratafy imputtfiint curaiosaty. Rispect 
for our reckonized instatewtions is my fust quallaty. I, for one, 
will dye rallying round my Thrown. 

“ Suffise it to say, when I stood in the Horgust Presnts, — 
when I sor on the right & of my Himperial Sovring that Most 
Gracious Prins, to admire womb has been the chief Objick of 
my life, my busum was seased with an imotium which my Penn 
rifewses to dixcribe — my trembling knees halmost rifused their 
hoffis — I reckleck nothing mor until I was found phainting in 
the harms of the Lord Chamberling. Sir Robert Peal apnd to 
be standing by (I knew our wuthy Primmier by Punch's picturs 
of him, igspecially his ligs), and he was conwussing with a man 
of womb I shall say nothink, but that he is a Hero of 100 fites, 
and hevery jite he fit he one. Nead I say that I elude to Harthur 
of Wellingting ? I introjuiced myself to these Jents, and intend 
to improve the equaintance, and peraps ast Guvmint for a 
Barnetcy. 

But there was another pusn womb on this droring-room I 
fust had the inagspressable dalite to beold. This was that Star 


C. ySAMES LA PLUG HE. 


107 

of fashing, that Sinecure of neighboring i’s, as Milting observes, 
the ecomplisht Lady Hangelina Thistlewood, daughter of my 
exlent frend, John George Godfrey de Bullion Thistlewood, Earl 
of Bareacres, Baron Southdown, in the Peeridge of the United 
Kingdom, Baron Haggismore, in Scotland, K.T., Lord Leftnant 
of the County of Diddlesex, &c., &c. This young lady was with 
her Noble Ma, when I was kinducted tords her. And surely 
never lighted on this hearth a more deligbtfle vishn. In that 
gallixy of Bewty the Lady Hangelina was the fairest Star — in 
that reath of Loveliness the sweetest Rosebud ! Pore Mary 
Hann, my Art’s young affeckshns had been senterd on thee ; 
but like water through a sivv, her immidge disapeared in a 
momink, and left me intransd in the presnts of Hangelina. 

“Lady Bareacres made me a myjestick bow — a grand and 
hawfle pusnage her Ladyship is, with a Roming Nose, and an 
enawmus ploom of Hostridge phethers ; the fare Hangelina 
smiled with a sweetness perfickly bewhildring, and said, ‘ O, 
Mr. De la Pluche, I’m so delighted to make your acquaintance. 
I have often heard of you.’ 

“ ‘ Who,’ says I, ‘ has mentioned my insiggnificknt igsistance 
to the fair Lady Hangelina } kel boniire igstrame poor mwaw ? ’ 
(For you see I’ve not studdied ‘ Pelham ’ for nothink, and have 
lunt a few French phraces, without which no Gent of Fashn 
speaks now.) 

“ ‘ O,’ replies my lady, “ it w'as Papa first ; and then a very, 
very old friends of yours.’ 

“ ‘ Whose name is,’ says I, pusht on by my stoopid curaw- 
saty 

“ ‘ Hoggins — Mary Ann Hoggins ’ — ansurred my lady (laf- 
fing phit to splitt her little sides). ‘ She is my maid, Mr. De 
la Pluche, and I’m afraid you are a very sad, sad person.’ 

“‘A mere baggytell,’ says 1. ‘In fommer days 1 was 
equainted with that young woman ; but haltered suckmstancies 
have sepparated us for hever, and mong cure is irratreevably 
perdew elsewhere.’ 

“ ‘ Do tell me all about it. Who is it 1 When was it ? We 
are all dying to know.’ 

“ ‘ Since about two minnits, and the Ladys name begins with 
a Ha,' says I, looking her tendarly in the face, and conjring up 
hall the fassanations of my smile. 

“ ‘ Mr. De la Pluche,’ here said a gentleman in whiskers 
and mistashes standing by, ‘ hadn’t you better take your spurs 
out of the Countess of Bareacres’ train?’ — ‘Never mind 
Mamma’s train ’ (said Lady Hangelina) : ‘this is the great Mr, 


io8 


THE DIARY OF 


De la Pluche, let me present you to Captain George Silvertop. 
— The Capting bent just one jint of his back very slitely ; I 
retund his stare with equill hottiness. ‘-Go and see for Lady 
Bareacres’ carridge, George/ says his Lordship ; and vispers to 
me, ‘ a cousin of ours — a poor relation.’ So I took no notis of 
the feller when he came back, nor in my subsquint visits to 
Hill Street, where it seems a knife and fork was laid reglar for 
this shabby Capting.” 


“ Thusday Night , — O Hangelina, Hangelina, my pashn for 
you hogments daily ! I’ve bean with her two the Hopra. I 
sent her a bewtifle Camellia Jyponiky from Covn Carding, with 
a request she would wear it in her raving Air. I woar another 
in my butnole. Evils, what was my sattusfackshn as I leant 
hover her chair, and igsammined the house with my glas ! 

“ She was as sulky and silent as pawsble, however — would, 
scarcely speek ; although I kijoled her with a thowsnd little plesn- 
tries. I spose it was because that wulgar raskle Silvertop wood 
stay in the box. As if he didn’ know (Lady B.’s as deaf as a poast 
and counts for nothink) that people sometimes like a tatytatyT 


“ Friday . — I was sleeples all night. I gave went to my 
feelings in the folloring lines — there’s a hair out of Balfe’s 
Hopera that she’s fond of. I edapted them to that mellady. 

“ She was in the dro ring-room alone with Lady B. She 
was wobbling at the pyanna as I hentered. I flung the con- 
vasation upon mewsick ; said I sung myself (I’ve ad lesns 
of Signor Twankydillo) ; and on her rekwesting me to favor 
her with somethink, I bust out with my pom : 

‘“WHEN MOONLIKE OER THE HAZURE SEAS. 

“ ‘ When Moonlike oer the hazure seas 
In soft effulgence swells, 

When silver jews and balmy breaze 
Bend down the Lily’s bells ; 

When calm and deap, the rosy sleap 
Has lapt your soal in dreams, 

R Hangaline ! R lady mine ! 

Dost thou remember Jeames? 

‘“I mark thee in the Marble All, 

Where Englands loveliest shine- 
I say the fairest of them hall 
Is Lady Hangeline. 

' My soul, in desolate eclipse. 

With recollection teems — 

And then I hask, with weeping Ups, 

D»st thtu remember Jeames? 


C JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 


109 

“ ‘ Away 1 I may not tell thee hall 
This soughring heart endures— 

There is a lonely' sperrit-call 
That Sorrow never cures ; 

There is a little, little Star, 

That still above me beams ; 

It is the Star of Hope — but ar ! 

Dost thou remember Jeames ? ’ 

“When I came to the last words, ‘Dost thou remember 
Je-e-e-ams?^ I threw such an igspresshn of unutterable ten- 
derniss into the shake at the hend, that Hangelina could bear 
it no more. A burst of uncumtrollable emotium seized her. 
She put her ankercher to her face and left the room. I heard 
her laffing and sobbing histerickly in the bedwor. 

“ O Hangelina — My adord one, My Arts joy ! ” 


“ Bareacres, me, the ladies of the family, with their sweet 
Southdown, B’s eldest son, and George Silvertop, the shabby 
Capting (who seems to git leaf from his regimint whenhever he 
likes), have beene down into Diddlesex for a few days, enjying 
the spawts of the feald there. 

“ Never having done much in the gunning line (since when 
a hinnasent boy, me and Jim Cox used to go out at Healing, and 
shoot sparrers in the Edges with a pistle) — I was reyther dowtfle 
as to my suxes as a shot, and practusd for some days at a 
stoughd bird in a shooting gallery, which a chap histed up and 
down with a string. I sugseaded in itting the hannimle pretty 
well. I bought Awker’s ‘ Shooting-Guide,’ two double-guns at 
Mantings, and selected from the French prints of fashn the 
most gawjus and ellygant sporting ebillyment. A lite blue 
velvet and goold cap, woar very much on one hear, a cravatt of 
yaller & green imbroidered satting, a weskit of the McGrigger 
plaid, and a jacket of the McWhirter tartn, (with large, mother- 
apurl butns, engraved with the coaches & osses, and sporting 
subjix,) high leather gayters, and marocky shooting shoes, was 
the simple hellymence of my costewm, and I flatter myself set 
hoff my Agger in rayther a fayverable way. I took down none 
of my own pusnal istablishmint except Fitzwarren, my hone 
mann, and my grooms, with Desparation and my curricle osses, 
and the Fourgong containing my dressing-case and close. 

“ I was heverywhere introjuiced in the county as the great 
Railroad Cappitlist, who was to make Diddlesex the most 
prawsperous districk of the hempire. The squires prest forrards 
to welcome the new comer amongst ’em ; and we had a Hag- 
ricultural Meating of the Bareacres tenantry, where I made a 
spech droring tears from heavery i. It was in compliment to a 


•^6 


THE DIARY OF 


layborer who had brought up sixteen children, and lived sixty 
years on the istate on seven bobb a week. I am not prowd, 
though I know my station. I shook hands with that mann in 
lavinder kidd gloves. I told him that the purshuit of hagri- 
CLilture was the noblist hockupations of humannaty : I spoke 
of the yoming of Hengland, who, (under the command of my 
hancisters) had conquered at Hadjincourt & Cressy ; and I gave 
him a pair of new velveteen inagspressables, with two and six 
in each pocket, as a reward for three score years of labor. 
Fitzwarren, my man, brought them forrards on a satting cush- 
ing. Has I sat down defning chears selewted the horator ; 
the band struck up ‘ l"he Good Old English Gentleman.’ I 
looked to the ladies galry ; my Hangelina waived her ankasher 
and kissed her & ; and [ sor in the distans that pore Mary 
Hann efected evidently to tears by my ellaquints.” 


“ What an adwance that gal has made since she’s been in 
Lady Hangelina’s company ! Sins she wears her young lady’s 
igsploded gownds and retired caps and ribbings, there’s an 
ellygance abowt her which is iDuffickly admarable ; and which, 
haddid to her own natral bewty & sweetniss, creates in my 
boozum serting sensatiums. * * Shor ! I ^/z//j-/;/’/give way to 
fealinx unwurthy of a member of the aristoxy. What can she 
be to me but a mere recklection — a vishn of former ears } 

“ I’m blest if I didn mistake her for Hangelina herself yester- 
day. I met her in the grand Collydore of Bareacres Castle. I 
sor a lady in a melumcolly hattatude gacing outawinder at the 
.setting sun, which was eluminating the fair parx and gardings 
of the hancient demean. 

“ ‘ Bewchus Lady Hangelina,’ says I — ‘ A penny for your 
Ladyship’s thought,’ says I. 

“ ‘ Ho, Jeames ! Ho, Mr. De la Pluche ! ’ hansered a well- 
known vice, with a haxnt of sadnis which went to my art. 
‘ Vof^ know what my thoughts are, well enough. I was think- 
ing of happy, happy old times, when both of us were poo — poo 
— oor,’ says Mary Hann, busting out in a phit of crying, a thing 
I can’t ebide. I took her and tried to cumft her : I pinted out 
thediflrents of our sitawashns ; igsplained to her that proppaty 
has its jewties as well as its previletches, and that my juty 
clearly was to marry into a noble famly. I kep on talking to 
her (she sobbing and going hon hall the time) till Lady Hange- 
lina herself came up — ‘ The real Siming Fewer,’ as they say in 
the play. 

“ There they stood together — them two young women. 1 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 


Ill 


don’t know which is the ansamest. I coodn help comparing 
them ; and I coodnt help comparing myself to a certing Han- 
nimle I’ve read of, that found it difficklt to make a choice be- 
twigst 2 Bundles of A.” 


“ That ungrateful beest Fitzwarren — my oan man — a feller 
I’ve maid a fortune for — a feller I give loo lb. per hannum to ! 
— a low bred Wallydyshamber ! He must be thinking of fall- 
ing in love too ! and treating me to his imperence. 

“ He’s a great big athlatic feller — six feet i, with a pair of 
black whiskers like air-brushes — with a look of a Colonel in the 
harmy — a dangerous pawmpus -spoken raskle I warrunt you. I 
was coming ome from shuiting this hafternoon — and passing 
through Lady Hangelina’s flour-garding, who should I see in 
the summerouse, but Mary Hann pretending to em an ankyshr 
and Mr. Fitzwarren paying his cort to her? 

“ ‘You may as well have me, Mary Hann,’ says he. ‘ I’ve 
saved money. We’ll take a public-house and I’ll make a lady 
of you. I’m not a purse-proud ungrateful fellow like Jeames — 
who’s such a snob (‘ such a snobb ’ was his very words !) that 
I’m ashamed to wait on him — who’s the laughing stock of all 
the gentry and the housekeeper’s room too — try a man,^ says 
he — ‘ don’t be taking on about such a humbug as Jeames.’ 

“ Here young Joe the keaper’s sun, who was carrying my 
bagg, bust out a laffing — thereby causing Mr. Fitzwarren to 
turn round and intarupt this polite convasation. 

“ I was in such a rayge. ‘ Quit the building, Mary Hann,’ 
says I to the young woman — ‘ and you, Mr. Fitzwarren, have 
the goodness to remain.’ 

“ ‘ I give you warning,’ roars he, looking black, blue, yaller 
—all the colors of the ranebo. 

“‘Take off your coat, you imperent, hungrateful scoundrel,’ 

says I. 

“ ‘ It’s not your livery,’ says he. 

*“ ‘ Peraps you’ll understand me, when I take off my own,’ 
says I, unbuttoning the motherapurls of the MacWhirter tartn. 
‘ Take my jackit, Joe,’ says I to the boy, — and put myself in a 
hattitude about which there was no mistayk. 

“ He’s 2 stone heavier than me — and knows the use of his 
ands as well as most men ; but in a fite, blood^s everything ; the 
Snobb can’t stand before the gentleman ; and I should have 
killed him, I’ve little doubt, but they came and stopt the fite 
betwigst us before we’d had more than 2 rounds. 


112 


THE DIAR Y OE 


“ I puiiisht the raskle tremenjusly in that time, though; arid 
Tm writing this in my own sittn-room, not being able to come 
down to dinner on account of a black-eye I’ve got, which is 
sweld up and disfiggrs me dreadfl.” 

“ On account of the hoffle black i which I reseaved in my 
rangcounter with the hinfimus Fitzwarren, I kep my roomb for 
sevral days, with the rose-colored curtings of the apartmint 
closed, so as to form an agreeable twilike ; and a light-bloo 
sattin shayd over the injard pheacher. My woons was thus 
made to become me as much as pawsable ; and (has the Poick 
well observes ‘ Nun but the Brayv desuvs the Fare ’) I cum- 
soled myself in the s'asiaty of the ladies for my tempory dis- 
figgarment. 

“ It was Mary Hann who summind the House and put an 
end to my phistycoughs with Fitzwarren. I licked him and 
bare him no mallis ; but of corse I dismist the imperent scoun- 
drill from my suvvis, apinting Adolphus, rny page, to his post 
of confidenshle Valley. 

“ Mary Hann and her young and lovely Mrs. kep paying 
me continyoul visits during my retiremint. Lady Hangelina 
was halways sending me inessidges by her : while my exlent 
friend. Lady Bareacres (on the contry) was always sending me 
toakns of affeckshn by Hangelina. Now it was a coolin hi- 
lotium, inwented by herself, that her Ladyship would perscribe 
— then, agin, it would be a booky of flowers (my favrit polly 
hanthuses, pellagoniums, and jyponikys), which none but the 
fair &s of Hangelina could dispose about the chamber of the 
hinvyleed. Ho ! those dear mothers ! when they wish to find 
a chans for a galliant young feller, or to ixtablish their dear 
gals in life, what awpertunities they will give a man ! You’d 
have phansied I was so hill (on account of my black hi,) that 1 
couldnt live exsep upon chicking and spoon-meat, and jellies, 
and blemonges, and that I couldnt eat the latter dellixies 
(which I ebomminate onternoo, prefurring a cut of beaf or 
muttn to hall the kickpshaws of France,) unless Hangelina 
brought them. I et ’em, and sacrafised myself for her dear 
sayk. 

“ I may stayt here that in privit convasations with old Lord 
B. and his son, I had mayd my proposals for Hangelina, and 
was axepted, and hoped soon to be made the appiest gent in 
Hengland. 

‘“You must break the matter gently to her,’ said her hex- 
lent father. ‘You have my warmest wishes, my dear Mr. De 


C. yEAMES DE LA P LUCRE. 


I13 

la Pluche, and those of my Lady Bareacres ; but I am not — 
not quite certain about Lady Angelina’s feelings. Girls are 
wild and romantic. They do not see the necessity of prudent 
establishments, and I have never yet been able to make Ange- 
lina understand the embarrassments of her family. These silly 
creatures prate about love and a cottage, and despise advan- 
tages which wiser heads than theirs know how to estimate.’ 

“ ‘ Do you mean that she aint fassanated by me ? ’ says I, 
bursting out at this outrayjus ideer. 

“ ‘ She will be, my dear sir. You have already pleased her, 
— your admirable manners must succeed in captivating her, and 
a fond father’s wishes will be crowned on the day in which you 
enter our family.’ 

“ ‘ Recklect, gents,’ says I to the 2 lords, — ‘ a barging’s a 
barging — I’ll pay hoff Southdown’s Jews, when I’m his brother. 
As a straynger' — (this I said in a sarcastickle toan) — ‘I 
wouldn’t take such a libbaty. When I’m your suninlor I’ll 
treble the valyou of your estayt. I’ll make your incumbrinces 
as right as a trivit, and restor the ouse of Bareacres to its herly 
splender. But a pig in a poak is not the way of transacting 
bisniss imployed by Jeames De la Pluche, Esquire.’ 

“ And I had a right to speak in this way. I was one of the 
greatest scrip-holders in Hengland ; and calclated on a kilossle 
fortune. All my shares was rising immence. Every poast 
brot me noose that I was sevral thowsands. richer than the day 
befor. I was detummind not to realize till the proper time, 
and then to buy istates ; to found a new family of Delapluches, 
and to alie myself with the aristoxy of my country. 

“ These pints I reprasented to pore Mary Hann hover and 
hover agin. ‘ If you’d been Lady Hangelina, my dear gal,’ says 
I, ‘ I would have married you : and why don’t I ? Because my 
dooty prewents me. I’m a marter to dooty ; and you, my pore 
gal, must cumsole yorself with that ideer.’ 

“ There seemed to be a consperracy, too, between that 
Silvertop and Lady Hangelina to drive me to the same pint. 
‘ What a plucky fellow you were, Pluche,’ says he (he was 
rayther more familiar than I liked), in your fight with Fitzwar- 
ren ! — to engage a ,man of twice your strength and science, 
though you were sure to be beaten’ (this is an etroashous 
folsood : I should have finnisht Fitz in 10 minnits), ‘for the 
sake of poor Mary Hann ! That’s a generous fellow. I like 
to see a man risen to eminence like you, having his heart in the 
right place. When is to be the marriage, my boy ? ’ 

“ ‘ Capting S.,’ says I, ‘my marridge consunns your most 


THE DIARY OF 


I14 

umble servnt a precious sight more than you; ’—and I gev 
to understand I didn’t want him to put in his ore — I wasn’t 
afrayd of his whiskers, I prommis you, Capting as he was. I’m 
a British Lion, I am ; as brayv as Bonypert, Hannible, or 
Holiver Crummle, and would face bagnits as well as any Evy 
drigoon of ’em all.” 

“ Lady Hangelina, too, igspawstulated in her hartfl way, 

‘ Air. De la Pluche (seshee), why, why press this point } You 
can’t suppose that you will Idc happy with a person like me ? ’ * 

“ ‘ I adoar you, charming gal ! ’ says I. “ Never, never go 
to say any such thing.’ 

“ ‘ You adored Mary Ann first,’ answers her ladyship ; ‘ you 
can’t keep your eyes off her now. If any man courts her you 
grow so jealous that you begin beating him. You will break 
the girl’s heart if you don’t marry her, and perhaps some one 
else’s — but you don’t mind that' 

“ ‘ Break yours, you adoarible creature ! I’d die first ! And 
as for Mary Hann, she will git over it ; people’s arts ain’t 
broakn so easy. Once for all, suckmstances is changed be^ 
twigst me and er. It’s a pang to part with her’ (says I, my 
fine hi’s filling with tears), ‘ but part from her I must.’ 

“ It was curius to remark abowt that singlar gal. Lady 
Hangelina, that melumcolly as she was when she was talking to 
me, and ever so disml — yet she kep on laffing every minute like 
the juice and all. 

‘“What a sacrifice! ’ says she ; ‘it’s like Napoleon giving 
up Josephine. What anguish it must cause to your susceptible 
heart I ’ 

“ ‘ It does,’ says I — Hagnies ! ’ (Another laff.) 

“ ‘ And if — if I don’t accept you — you will invade the States 
of the Emperor, my papa, and I am to be made the sacrifice 
and the occasion of peace between you ! ’ 

“ ‘ I don’t know what you’re eluding to about Joseyfeen and 
Hemperors your Pas ; but I know that your Pa’s estate is over 
hedaneers morgidged ; that if some one don’t elp him, he’s no 
better than an old pawper ; that he owes me a lot of money ; and 
that I’m the man that can sell him up boss & foot ; or set him 
up agen — that's what I know. Lady Hangelina,’ says I, with a 
hair as much as to say, ‘ Put that in your ladyship’s pipe and 
smoke it.’ 

“ And so I left her, and nex day a serting fashnable paper 
enounced — 

“ ‘ Marriage in High Life. — We hear that a matrimonial 
union is on the tapis between a gentleman who has made a 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. I15 

colossal fortune in the Railway World, and the only daughter 
of a noble earl, whose estates are situated in D-ddles-x. An 
early day is fixed for this interesting event.’ ” 


“ Contry to my expigtations (but when or ow can we reckn 
upon the fealinx of wimming ?) Mary Hann didn’t seem to be 
much efected by the hideer of my marridge with Hangelina. I 
was rayther disapinted peraps that the fickle young gal reckum- 
siled herself so easy to give me hup, for we Gents are creechers 
of vannaty after all, as well as those of the hopsit seeks : and 
betwigst you and me there was mominx, when I almost whisht 
that I had been borne a Myommidn or Turk, when the Lor 
would have permitted me to marry both these sweet beinx, 
wherehas I was now condemd to be appy with ony one. 

“ Meanwild everythink went’on very agreeable betwigst me 
and my defianced bride. When we came back to town I 
kemishnd Mr. Showery the great Hoctionear to look out for a 
town manshing sootable for a gent of my quallaty. I got from 
the Erald Hoffis (not the Mawning Erald — no no. I’m not 
such a Mough as to go there for ackrit infamation) an account 
of my famly, my harms and pedigry. 

“ I bordered in Long Hacre, three splendid equ'pidges, on 
which my arms and my adord wife’s was drawn & ciuartered \ 
and I got portricks of me and her paynted by the sellabrated 
Mr. Shalloon, being resolved to be the gentleman in all things, 
and knowing that my character as a man of fashn wasn’t corn- 
pleat unless I sat to that dixtinguished Hartist. My likenis I 
presented to Hangelina. It’s not considered flattring — and 
though she parted with it, as you will hear, mighty willingly, 
there’s one young lady (a thousand times handsomer) that values 
it as the h apple of her hi. 

“ Would any man beleave that this picture was soald at my 
sale for about a twenty-fifth part of what it cost me ? It was 
bought in by Maryhann, though : ‘ O dear Jeames,’ says she, 
often (kissing of it & pressing it to her art), ‘ it isn’t ansum 
enough for you, and hasn’t got your angellick smile and the 
igspreshn of your dear dear i’s.’ 

“ Hangelina’s pictur was kindly presented to me by Countess 
B., her mamma, though of coarse I paid for it. It was engraved 
for the ‘ Book of Bewty ’ the same year. 

“With such a perfusion of ringlits I should scarcely have 
known her — but the ands, feat, and i’s, was very like. She was 
painted in a gitar supposed to be singing one of my little mel- 


THE DIARY OF 


1 16 

ladies ; and her brother Southdown, who is one of the New 
England poits, wrote the follering stanzys about her : — 

“LINES UPON MY SISTER’S PORTRAIT. 

BV THE LORD SOUTHDOWN. 

The castle towers of Bareacres are fair upon the lea, 

Where the cliffs of bonny Diddlesex rise up from out the sea : 

I stood upon the donjon keep and view’d the country o’er, 

I saw the lands of Bareacres for fifty miles or more. 

I stood upon the donjon keep — it is a sacred place, — 

Where floated for eight hundred years the banner of my race ; ^ 

Argent, a dexter sinople, and gules an azure field. 

There ne’er was nobler cognizance on knightly warrior’s shield. 

“ The first time England saw the shield ’twas round a Norman neck 
On board a ship from Valery, King William was on deck. 

A Norman lance the colors wore, in Hastings’ fatal fray — 

St. Willibald for Bareacres! ’twas double gules that day! 

O Heaven and sweet St. Willibald! in many a battle since 
A loyal-hearted Bareacres ha? ridden by his Prince ! 

At Acre with Plantagenet, with Edw'ard at Poitiers, 

The pennon of the Bareacres was foremost on the spears ! 

“ ’Twas pleasant in the battle-shock to hear our war-cry ringing: 

O grant me, sweet St. Willibald, to listen to such singing ! 

Three hundred steel-clad gentlemen, we drove the foe before us, 

And thirty score of British bows kept twanging to the chorus ! 

O knights, my noble ancestors ! and shall I never hear 
Saint Willibald for Bareacres through battle ringing clear ? 

I’d cut me off this strong right hand a single hour to ride. 

And strike a blow for Bareacres, my fathers, at your side ! 
r 

“ Dash down, dash down, yon Mandolin, beloved sister mine! 

Those blushing lips may never sing the glories of our line : 

Our ancient castles echo to the clumsy feet of churls, 

The spinning Jenny houses in the mansion of our Earls. 

Sing not, sing not, my Angeline ! in days so base and vile, 

’Twere sinful to be happy, ’twere sacrilege to smile. 

I’ll hie me to my lonely hall, and by its cheerless hob 

I’ll muse on other days, and wish — and wish I were — A Snob.” 

“ All young Hengland, I’m told, considers the poim bew- 
tifle. They’re always writing about battleaxis and shivvlery, 
these young chaps ; but the ideer of Southdown in a shoot of 
armer, and his cuttin hoff his ‘ strong right hand,’ is rayther 
too good ; the feller is about 5 fit hi, — as ricketty as a babby, 
with a vaist like a gal ; and though he may have the art and 
curridge of Bengal tyger, I’d back my smallest cab-boy to lick 
him, — that is, if I a cab-boy. But io ! my cab-days is over. 

“ Be still my hagnizing Art ! I now am about to hunfoald 
the dark payges of the Istry of my life ! ” 

“ My friends ! you’ve seen me itherz in the full kerear of 
Fortn, prawsprus but not hover prowd of my prawsperraty ; not 
dizzy though -mounted on the haypix of Good Luck — feasting 
hall the great (like the Good Old Henglish Gent in the song, 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 


I17 

which he has been niy moddle and igsample through life), but 
not forgitting the small — No, my beayviour to my granmother 
at Healing shows that. I bot her a new donkey cart (what the 
French call a cart-blansh) and a handsome set of peggs for 
anging up her linning, and treated Huncle Bill to a new shoot 
of close, which he ordered in St. Jeames^ Street, much to the 
estonishment of my Snyder there, namely an olliff-green velvy- 
teen jackit and smalclose, and a crimsn plush weskoat with 
glas-buttns. These pints of genarawsaty in my disposishn I 
never should have eluded to, but to show that I am naturally 
of a noble sort, and have that kind of galliant carridge which 
is equel to either good or bad forting. 

“ What was the substns of my last chapter ? In that every- 
think was prepayred for my marridge — the consent of the 
parents of my Hangelina was gaynd, the lovely gal herself was 
ready (as I thought) to be led to Himing’s halter — the trooso 
was bordered — the wedding dressis were being phitted hon — a 
weddinkake weighing half a tunn was a gettn reddy by Mesurs 
Gunter, of Buckley Square ; there was such an account for 
Shantilly and Honiton laces as would have staggerd henny- 
boddy (I know they did the Commissioner when I came hup 
for my Stiffikit), and has for Injar-shawls I bawt a dozen sich 
fine ones as never -vyas given away — no not by Hiss Iness the 
Injan Prins Juggernaut Tygore. Thejuils (a pearl and dimind 
shoot) were from the establishmint of Mysurs Storr and Mor- 
timer. The honey-moon I intended to pass in a continentle 
excussion, and was in treaty for the ouse at Halberd-gate 
(hopsit Mr. Hudson’s) as my town-house. I waited to cum- 
clude the putchis untie the Share-Markit which was rayther 
deprest (oing I think not so much to the atax of the misrabble 
Times, as to the prodidjus flams of the Morning Erald) was 
restored to its elthy toan. I wasn’t goin to part with scrip 
which was 20 primmium at 2 or 3 ; and bein confidnt that the 
Markit would rally, had bought very largely for the two or three 
new accounts. 

“ This will explane to those unfortnight traydsmen to womb 
I gayv orders for a large igstent ow it was that I couldn’t pay 
their accounts. I am the soal of onor — but no gent can pay 
when he has no money : — it’s not my fault if that old screw 
Lady Bareacres cabbidged three hundred yards of lace, and 
kep back 4 of the biggest diminds and seven of the largist Injar 
Shawls — it’s not my fault if the tradespeople didn git their gogds 
back, and that Lady B. declared they were lost. I began the 
world afresh with the close on my back, and thirteen and six 


THE DIARY OF 


li8 

in money, concealing nothink, giving up heverythink, Onist 
and undismayed, and though beat, with pluck in me still, and 
ready to begin agin. 

“ Well — it was the day before that apinted for my Unium. 
The ‘ Ringdove ’ steamer was lying at Dover ready to carry us 
hoff. The Bridle apirtmince had been bordered at Salt Hill, 
and subsquintly at Balong sur Mare — the very table-cloth was 
laid for the weddn brexfst in 111 Street, and the Bride’s Right 
Reverend Huncle, the Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy, had 
arrived to sellabrayt our unium. All the papers were full of it. 
Crowds of the fashnable world went to see the trooso, and 
admire the Carridges in Long Hacre. Our travleng charrat 
(light bloo lined with pink satting, and vermillium and goold 
weals) was the hadmaration of all for quiet ellygns. We were 
to travel only 4 , viz., me, my lady, my vally, and Mary Hann 
as famdyshamber to my Hangelina. Far from oposing our 
match, this worthy gal had quite givn into it of late, and laught 
and joakt, and enjoyd our plans for the fewter igseedinkly. 

“ I’d left my lovely Bride very gay the night before — aving 
a multachewd of bisniss on, and Stockbrokers’ and bankers’ 
accounts to settle : atsettrey atsettrey. It was layt before I got 
these in border : my sleap was feavrish, as most mens is when 
they are going to be marrid or to be hanged. I took my 
chocklit in bed about one ; tride on my wedding close, and 
found as ushle that they became me exeedingly. 

‘‘ One thing distubbed my mind — two weskts had been sent 
home. A blush-white satting and gold, and a kinary colored 
tabinet imbridered in silver : which should I wear on the hos- 
picious day ? This hadgitated and perplext me a good deal. 
I detummined to go down to Hill Street and cumsult the Lady 
whose wishis were henceforth to be my hallinal ; and wear 
whichever she phixt on. 

“ There was a great bussel and distubbans in the Hall in 
111 Street : which I etribyouted to the eproaching event. The 
old porter stared most uncommon when I kem in — the footman 
who was to enounce me laft I thought — I was going up stairs — 

“ ‘ Her ladyship’s not — not at home^' says the man ; ‘ and 
my lady’s hill in bed.’ 

“ ‘ Git lunch,’ says I, ‘ I’ll wait till Lady Hangelina returns.’ 

“ At this the feller loox at me for a momint with his cheex 
blown out like a bladder, and then busts out in a reglar guffau ! 
the porter jined in it, the impident old raskle : and Thomas 
says, slapping his hand on his thy, without the least respect— 
^ I say ^ Huffy ^ old boy ! isn’t this a good un i ’ 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 


il^ 

“ * Wadyermean, you infunnle scoundrel,’ says I, ‘ hollaring 
and laffing at me ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh, here’s Miss Mary Hann coming up,’ says Thomas, 
‘ask her ' — and indeed there came, my little Mary Hann trip- 
ping down the stairs — her &s in her pockits ; and when she 
saw me, she began to blush and look hod & then to grin too. 

“ ‘ In the name of Imperence,’ says I, rushing on Thomas, 
and collaring him fit to throttle him — ‘no ras&e of a flunky 
shall insult me' and I sent him staggerin up aginst the porter, 
and both of ’em into the hall-chair with a flopp — when Mary 
Hann, jumping down, says, ‘ O James ! O Mr. Plush ! read this ’ 
— and she pulled out a billy doo. 

“ I reckanized the and-writing of Hangelina.” 


“ Deseatful Hangelina’s billy ran as follows : — 

“ ‘ I had all along hoped that you would have relinquished 
pretensions which you must have seen were so disagreeable to 
me ; and have spared me the painful necessity of the step which 
I am compelled to take. For a long time I could not believe 
my parents were serious in wishing to sacrifice me, but have in 
vain entreated them to spare me. I cannot undergo the shame 
and misery of a union with you. To the very last hour I 
remonstrated in vain, and only now anticipate, by a few hours, 
my departure from a home from which they themselves were 
about to expel me. 

“ ‘ When you receive this, I shall be united to the person 
to whom, as you are aware, my heart was given long ago. 
My parents are already informed of the step I have taken. 
And I have my own honor to consult, even before their bene- 
fit : they will forgive me, I hope and feel, before long. 

“ ‘ As for yourself, may I not hope that time will calm your 
exquisite feelings too "I I leave Mary Ann behind me to con- 
sole you. She admires you as you deserve to be admired and 
with a constancy which I entreat you to try and imitate. Do, 
my dear Mr. Plush, try — for the sake of your sincere friend 
and admirer, 

“‘A. 

“ P.S. I leave the wedding-dresses behind for her : the dia- 
monds are beautiful, and will become Mrs. Plush admirably.’ 

“This was hall ! — Conffewshn ! And there stood the foot- 
men sniggerin, and that hojus Mary Hann half a cryin, half a 
laffing at me ! ‘ Who has she gone hoff with ? ’ rors 1 ; and 


120 


THE DIARY of 


Mary Hann (smiling with one hi) just touched the top of one 
of the Johns’ canes who was goin out with the noats to put hofi 
the brekfst. It was Silvertop then ! 

“ I bust out of the house in a stayt of diamoniacal igsite- 
ment ! 

“ The stoary of that ilorpmint / have no art to tell. Here 
it is from the Morning Tatler newspaper : — 

“ELOPEMENT IN HIGH LIFE. 

“ THE ONLY AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT. 

“ The neighborhood of Berkeley Square, and the whole 
fashionable world, has been thrown into a state of the most 
painful excitement by an event which has just placed a noble 
family in great perplexity and affliction. 

“It has long been known among the select nobility and 
gentry that a marriage was on the tapis between the only 
daughter of a Noble Earl, and a Gentleman whose rapid for- 
tunes in the railway world have been the theme of general 
remark. Yesterday’s paper, it was supposed, in all human 
probability would have contained an account of the marriage 

of James De la PI — che. Esq., and the Lady Angelina , 

daughter of the Right Honorable the Earl of B — re — cres. 
The preparations for this ceremony were complete : we had the 
pleasure of inspecting the rich trousseau (prepared by Miss 
Twiddler, of Pall Mall) ; the magnificent jewels from the 
establishment of Messrs. Storr and Mortimer ; the elegant 
marriage cake, which, already cut up and portioned, is, alas ! 
not destined to be eaten by the friends of Mr. De la PI — che ; 
the superb carriages, and magnificent liveries, which had been 
provided in a style of the most lavish yet tasteful sumptuosity. 
The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy had 
arrived in town to celebrate the nuptials, and is staying at 
Mivart’s. What must have been the feelings of that venerable 
prelate, what those of the agonized and noble parents of the 
Lady Angelina — when it was discovered, on the day previous 
to the wedding, that her Ladyship had fled the paternal man- 
sion ! To the venerable Bishop the news of his noble niece’s 
departure might have been fatal : we have it from the waiters of 
Mivart’s that his Lordship was about to indulge in the refresh- 
ment of turtle soup when the news was brought to him ; 
immediate apoplexy was apprehended ; but Mr. Macann, the 
celebrated surgeon of Westminster, was luckily passing through 
Bond Street at the time, and being promptly called in, bled 


C, yEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 


I2I 


and relieved the exemplary patient. His Lordship will return 
to the Palace, Bullocksmithy^ to-morrow. 

“ The frantic agonies of the Right Honorable the Earl of 
Bareacres can be imagined by every paternal heart. Far be it 
from us to disturb — impossible is it for us to describe their noble 
sorrow. Our reporters have made inquiries every ten minutes 
at the Earl’s mansion in Hill Street, regarding the health of the 
Noble Peer and his incomparable Countess. They have been 
received with a rudeness which we deplore but pardon. One 
was threatened with a cane ; another, in the pursuit of his offi- 
cial inquiries, was saluted with a pail of water ; a third gentle- 
man was menaced in a pugilistic manner by his Lordship’s 
porter ; but being of an Irish nation, a man of spirit and sinew, 
and Master of Arts of Trinity College, Dublin, the gentleman 
of our establishment confronted the menial, and having severely 
beaten him, retired to a neighboring hotel much frequented by 
the domestics of the surrounding nobility, and there obtained 
what we believe to be the most accurate particulars of this 
extraordinary occurrence. 

“ George Frederick Jennings, third footman in the establish- 
ment of Lord Bareacres, stated to our employe as follows : — 
Lady Agelina had been promised to Mr. de la Pluche for near 
six weeks. She never could abide that gentleman. He was 
the laughter of all the servant’s hall. Previous to his elevation 
he had himself been engaged in a domestic capacity. At that 
period he had offered marriage to Mary Ann Hoggins, who was 
living in the quality of ladies’-maid in the family where Mr. De 
la P. was employed. Miss Hoggins became subsequently lady’s- 
maid to Lady Angelina — the elopement was arranged between 
those two. It was Miss Hoggins who delivered the note which 
informed the bereaved Mr. Plush of his loss. 

“ Samuel Buttons, page to the Right Honorable the Earl of 
Bareacres, was ordered on Friday afternoon at eleven o’clock 
to fetch a cabriolet from the stand in Davies Street. He 
selected the cab No. 19,796, driven by George Gregory Macarty, 
a one-eyed man from Clonakilty, in the neighborhood of Cork, 
Ireland {of 7vhom more anon), and waited, according to his instruc- 
tions, at the corner of Berkeley Square with his vehicle. His 
young lady, accompanied by her maid. Miss Mary Ann Hoggins, 
carrying a bandbox, presently arrived, and entered the cab 
with the box : what were the contents of that box we have 
never been able to ascertain. On asking her Ladyship whether 
he should order the cab to drive in any particular direction, he 
was told to drive to Madame Crinoline’s, the eminent milliner 


122 


THE DIARY OF 


in Cavendish Square. On requesting to know whether he 
should accompany her Ladyship, Buttons was peremptorily 
ordered by Miss Hoggins to go about his business. 

“ Having now his clue, our reporter instantly went in search 
of cab 19,796, or rather the driver of that vehicle, who was dis- 
covered with no small difficulty at his residence. Whetstone 
Park, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where he lives with his family of 
nine children. Having received two sovereigns, instead doubt- 
less of two shillings (his regular fare, by the way, would have 
been only one-and-eightpence), Macarty had not gone out with 
the cab for the two last days, passing them in a state of almost 
ceaseless intoxication. His replies were very incoherent in an- 
swer to the queries of our reporter ; and, had not that gentle- 
man himself been a compatriot, it is probable he would have 
refused altogether to satisfy the curiosity of the public. 

“ At Madame Crinoline’s, Miss Hoggins quitted the carriage, 
and a gentleman entered it. Macarty describes him as a very 
clever, gentleman (meaning tall) with black mustaches, Oxford- 
gray trousers, and black hat and a pea-coat. He drove the 
couple to the^Euston Square Station., and there left them. How 
he employed his time subsequently we have stated. 

“ At the Euston Square Station, the gentleman of our estab- 
lishment learned from Frederick Corduroy, a porter there, that 
a gentleman answering the above description had taken places 
to Derby. We have despatched a confidential gentleman thither, 
by a special train, and shall give his report in a 'second edition. 

SECOND EDITION. 

• “ {Frotn our Reporter.) 

“ Newcastle, Monday. 

“ I am just arrived at this ancient town, at the ‘ Elephant 
and Cucumber Hotel.’ A party travelling under the name of 
Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the gentleman wearing mustaches, and 
having with them a blue bandbox, arrived by the train two 
hours before me, and have posted onwards to Scotland. I 
have ordered four horses, and write this on the hind boot^ as 
they are putting to. 

“THIRD EDITION. 

“ Gretna Green, Monday Evening. 

“ The mystery is at length solved. This afternoon, at four 
o’clock, the Hymeneal Blacksmith, of Gretna Green, celebrated 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, 


123 

the marriage between George Granby Silvertop, Esq., a Lieu- 
tenant in the 150th Hussars, third son of General John Silver- 
top, of Silvertop Hall, Yorkshire, and lady Emily Silvertop, 
daughter of the late sister of the present Earl of Bareacres, and 
the Lady Angelina Amelia Arethusa Anaconda Alexandrina 
Alicompania Annemaria Antoinetta, daughter of the last-named 
Earl Bareacres. 

{Here follows a long extract front the Marriage Service in the Book oj 
Common Prayer, which was not read on the occasion, and need not be 
repeated here.) 

“ After the ceremony, the young couple partook of a slight 
refreshment of sherry and water — the former the Captain pro- 
nounced to be execrable ; and, having myself tasted some 
glasses from the very same bottle with which the young and 
noble pair were served, I must say I think the Captain was 
rather hard upon mine host of the ‘ Bagpipes Hotel and Post- 
ing-House,’ whence they instantly proceeded. I follow them 
as soon as the horses have fed. 


“FOURTH EDITION. 

“shameful treatment of our reporter. 

“ Whistlebinkie, N. B. Monday, midnight. 

“ I arrived at this romantic little villa about two hours after 
the newly married couple, whose progress I have the honor to 
trace, reached Whistlebinkie. They have taken up their resi- 
dence at the ‘ Cairngorm Arms ’ — mine is at the other hostelry, 
the ‘ Clachan of Whistlebinkie.’ 

“ On driving up to the ‘ Cairngorm Arms,’ I found a gentle- 
man of military appearance standing at the door, and occupied 
seemingly in smoking a cigar. It was very dark as I descended 
from my carriage, and the gentleman in question exclaimed, 
‘ Is it you. Southdown my boy "i You have come too late ; 
unless you are come to have some supper j ’ or words to that 
effect. I explained that I was not the Lord Viscount South- 
down, and politely apprised Captain Silvertop (for I justly 
concluded the individual before me could be no other) of his 
mistake. 

“ ‘ Who the deuce ’ (the Captain used a stronger term) ‘ are 
you, then ? ’ said Mr. Silvertop. ‘ Are you Baggs and Tape- 
well, my uncle’s attorneys t If you are, you have come too 
late for the fair.’ 


124 


THE DIARY OF 


“I briefly explained that I was not Baggs and Tapewell, 
but that my name was J — ms, and that I was a gentleman con* 
nected with the establishment of the Morning I'atler newspaper. 

“ ‘ And what has brought you here, Mr. Morning Tatler ? ’ 
asked my interlocutor, rather roughly. My answer was frank 
— that the disappearance of a noble lady from the house of her 
friends had caused the greatest excitement in the metropolis, 
and that my employers were anxious to give the public every 
particular regarding an event so singular. 

“ ‘ And do you mean to say, sir, that you have dogged me 
all the way from London, and that my family affairs are to be 
published for the readers of the Morning Tatler newspaper ? 

The Morning Tatler be (the Captain here gave utterance 

to an oath which I shall not repeat) and you too, sir : you im- 
pudent meddling scoundrel.’ 

“ ‘ Scoundrel, sir ! ’ said I. ‘Yes,’ replied the irate gentle- 
man, seizing me rudely by the collar — and he would have choked 
me, but that my blue satin stock and false collar gave way, and 
were left in the hands of this gentleman. ‘ Help, landlord ! ’ I 
loudly exclaimed, adding, I believe, ‘ murder,’ and other ex- 
clamations of alarm. In vain I appealed to the crowd, which 
by this time was pretty considerable ; they and the unfeeling 
post-boys only burst into laughter, and called out, ‘ Give it him, 
Captain.’ A struggle ensued, in which I have no doubt I 
should have had the better, but that the Captain, joining sud- 
denly in the general and indecent hilarity, which was doubled 
when I fell down, stopped and said, ‘ Well, Jims, I won’t fight 
on my marriage-day. Go into the tap, Jims, and order a glass 
of brandy-and-water at my expense — and mind I don’t see your 
face to-morrow morning, or I’ll make it more ugly than it is.’ 

“ Witli these gross expressions and a cheer from the crowd, 
Mr. Silvertop entered the inn. I need not say that I did not 
partake of his hospitality, and that personally I despise his in- 
sults. I make them known that they may call down the indig- 
nation of the body of which I am a member, and throw myself 
on the sympathy of the public, as a gentleman shamefully 
assaulted and insulted in the discharge of a public duty.” 


“ Thus you’ve sean how the flower of my affeckshns was 
tawn out of my busm, and my art was left bleading. Hange- 
tna ! I forgive thee. Mace thou be appy ! If ever artfelti 
prayer for others wheel awailed on i, the beink on womb you 
Irampled addresses those subblygations to Evn in your be-J ! 

“ I went home like a maniack, after hearing the anounce- 


C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 


125 

ment of Hangelina’s departer. She’d been gone twenty hours 
when I heard the fat’e noose. Purshoot was vain. Suppose I 
did ^ kitch her up, they were married, and what could we do ? 
This sensable remark I made to Earl Bareacres, when that dis- 
tragted nobleman igspawstulated with me. Er who was to have 
been my mother-in-lor, the Countiss, I never from that momink 
sor agin. My presnts, troosoes, juels, &c., were sent back — 
with the igsepshn of the diminds and Cashmear shawl, which 
her Ladyship coodnd Jljid. Ony it was wispered that at the nex 
buthday she was seen with a shawl igsackly of the same pattn. 
Let er keep it. 

“ Southdown was phuriiis. He came to me hafter the 
ewent, and wanted me to adwance 50 lb., so that he might per- 
shew his fewgitif sister — but I wasn’t to be ad with that sort of 
chaugh — there was no more money for that famly. So he went 
away, and gave huttrance to his feelinx in a poem, which ap- 
peared (price 2 guineas) in the Bel Asombly. 

“All the juilers, manchumakers, lacemen, coch bilders, 
apolstrers, hors dealers, and weddencake makers came pawring 
in with their bills, haggravating feelings already woondid be- 
yond enjurants. That madniss didn’t seaze me that night was 
a mussy. Fever, fewry, and rayge rack’d my hagnized braind, 
and drove sleap from my throbbink ilids. Hall night If ollered 
Hangelinar in imadganation along the North Road. I wented 
cusses & mallydickshuns on the hinfamus Silvertop. I kickd 
and rord in my unhuttarable whoe ! I seazd my pillar : I 
pitcht into it : pummld it, strangled it. Ha har ! I thought 
it was Silvertop writhing in my Jint grasp ; and taw the hor- 
dayshis villing lim from lim in the terrible strenth of my de- 
spare ! * * * Let me drop a cutting over the memries of 
that night. When my boddy-suvnt came with my ot water in 
the mawning, the livid copse in the charnill was not payler than 
the gashly De la Pluche ! 

“ ‘ Give me the Share-list, Mandeville,’ I micanickly igs- 
claimed. I had not perused it for the past 3 days, my etention 
being engayged elseware. Hevns & huth ! — what was it I red 
there ? What was it that made me spring outabed as if sum- 
bady had given me cold pig ? — I red Rewin in that Share-list 
— the Pannick was in full hoparation ! 

****** 

“ Shall I describe that kitastrafy with which hall Hengland 
is familiar ? My & rifewses to cronnicle the misfortns which 
lassarated my bleeding art in Hoctober last. On the fust of 
Hawgust where was I ^ Director of twenty-three Companies ; 

9 


126 


THE DIARY OF 


older of scrip hall at a primmium, and worth at least a quarter 
of a millium. On Lord Mare’s day, my Saint Helenas quotid 
at 14 pm, were down at discount; my Central Ichaboes at 
^ discount ; my Table Mounting & Hottentot Grand Trunk, 
no where ; my Bathershins and Derrynane Beg, of which I’d 
bought 2000 for the account at 17 primmium, down to nix ; my 
Juan Fernandez, my Great Central Oregons, prostrit. There 
was a momint when I thought I shouldn’t be alive to write my 
own tail !•” 

(Here follow in Mr. Plush's MS. about twenty-four pages of 
railroad calculations, which we pretermit.) 

“Those beests. Pump & Aldgate, once so cringing and 
umble, wrote me a threatnen letter because I overdrew my ac- 
count three-and-sixpence : woodn’t advance me five thousand 
on 25,000 worth of scrip ; kep me waiting 2 hours when I 
asked to see the house ; and then sent out Spout, the jewnior 
partner, saying they wouldn’t discount my paper, and implawed 
me to clothes my account. I did : I paid the three-and-six 
balliance, and never sor ’em mor. 

“ The market fell daily. 'Phe Rewin grew wusser and wus- 
ser. Hagnies, Hagnies ! It wasn’t in the city aloan my mis- 
fortns came upon me. They beerded me in my own ome. 
The biddle who kips watch at the Halbany wodn keep misfortn 
out of my chambers ; and Mrs. Twiddler, of Pall Mall, and 
Mr. Hunx, of Long Acre, put egsicution into my apartmince,. 
and swep off every stick of my furniture. ‘ Wardrobe & furni- 
ture of a man of fashion.’ What an adwertisement George Rob- 
bins did make of it ; and what a crowd was collected to laff at 
the prospick of my ruing ! My chice plait ; my seller of wine ; 
my picturs — that of myself included (it was Maryhann, bless 
her ! that bought it, unbeknown to me) ; all — all went to the 
ammer. That brootle Fitzwarren, my ex-vally, womb I met, 
fimilliarly slapt me on the sholder, and said, ‘ Jeames, my boy, 
you’d best go into suvvis aginn.’ 

“ I did go into suvvis — the wust of all suvvices — I went 
into the Queen’s Bench Prison, and lay there a misrabble captit 
for 6 mortial weeks. Misrabble shall I say 1 no, not misrabble, 
altogether ; there was sunlike in the dunjing of the pore pris- 
ner. I had visitors. A cart used to drive hup to the prizn 
gates of Saturdays ; a washywoman’s cart, with a fat old lady in 
it, and a young one. Who was that young one ? Every one 
who has an art can gess, it was my blue-eyed blushing hangel 
of a Mary Hann ! ‘ Shall we take him out in the linnen-bas- 

ket grandmamma ? ’ Mary Hann said. Bless her, she’d ai* 


C, JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 


127 

ready learned to say grandmamma quite natral ; but I didn^t 
go out that way; I went out by the door a whitewashed mam 
Ho, what a feast there was at Healing the day I came out ! 
rd thirteen shillings left when I bought the gold ring. I wasn’t, 
prowd. I turned the mangle for three weeks; and then Uncle 
Bill said, ‘ Well, there is some good in the feller ; ’ and it was 
Agreed that we should marry.” 

The Plush manuscript finishes here : it is rnany weeks since 
we saw the accomplished writer, and we have only just learned 
his fate. We are happy to state that it is a comfortable and 
almost a prosperous one. 

The Honorable and Right Reverend Lionel Thistlewood,. 
Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy, was mentioned as the uncle 
of Lady Angelina Silvertop. Her elopement with her cousin 
caused deep emotion to the venerable prelate : he returned to. 
the palace at Bullocksmithy, of which he. had been for thirty 
years the episcopal ornament, and where he married three- 
wives, who lie buried in his Cathedral Church of St. Boniface,. 
Bullocksmithy. 

The admirable man has rejoined those whom he loved. As. 
he was preparing a charge to his clergy in his study after- 
dinner, the Lord Bishop fell suddenly down in a fit of apoplexy ;• 
his butler, bringing in his accustomed dish of devilled kidneys 
for supper, discovered the venerable form extended on the 
Turkey carpet with a glass of Madeira in his hand ; but life 
was extinct ; and surgical aid was therefore not particularly 
useful. 

All the late prelate’s wives had fortunes, which the admirable 
man increased by thrift, the judicious sale of leases which fell 
in during his episcopacy, &c. He left three hundred thousand 
pounds — divided between his nephew and niece — not a greater 
sum than has been left by several deceased Irish prelates. 

What Lord Southdown has done with his share we are not 
called upon to state. He has composed an epitaph to the 
Martyr of Bullocksmithy, which does him infinite credit. But 
we are happy to state that Lady Angelina Silvertop presented 
five hundred pounds to her faithful and affectionate : erv ant, 
Mary Ann Hoggins, on her marriage with Mr. James Plush, to 
whom her Ladyship also made a handsome present — namely, 
the lease, good-will, and fixtures of the “ Wheel of Fortune ” 
public-house, near Shepherd’s Market, May Fair : a house 
greatly frequented by all the nobility’s footmen, doing a genteel 
stroke of business in the neighborhood, and where, as we have 
heard, the “ Butler’s Club ” is held. 


12 $ the diary of C. yEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 


Here Mr. Plush lives happy in a blooming and interesting 
wife : reconciled to a middle sphere of life, as he was to a 
humbler and a higher one before. He has shaved off his 
whiskers, and accommodates himself to an apron with perfect 
good-humor. A gentleman connected with this establishment 
dined at the “ Wheel of Fortune ” the other day, and collected 
the above particulars. Mr. Plush blushed rather, as he brought 
in the first dish, and told his story very modestly over a pint 
of excellent port. He had only one thing in life to complain 
of, he said — that a witless version of his adventures had been 
produced at the Princess’s theatre, “ without with your leaf or 
by your leaf,” as he expressed it. “ Has for the rest,” the 
worthy fellow said, “I’m appy — praps betwixt you and me I’m 
in my proper spear. I enjy my glass of beer or port (with 
your elth & my suvvice to you, sir.) quite as much as my clarrit 
in my prawsprus days. I’ve a good busniss, which is likely to 
be better. If a man can’t be appy with such a wife as my 
Mary Hann, he’s a beest ; and when a christning takes place 
in our family, -will you give my compliments to Mr. Punch and 
ask him to be godfather.” 


LETTERS OF JEAMES. 


JEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS. 

Peraps at this present momink of Railway Hagetation and 
unsafety the following little istory of a young friend of mine 
may hact as an olesome warning to bother week and hirresolute 
young gents. 

“ Young Frederick Timmins was the horphan son of a 
respectable cludgyman in the West of Hengland. Hadopted 
by his uncle, Colonel T , of the Hoss-Mareens, and regard- 

less of expence, this young man was sent to Heaton Collidge, 
and subsiquintly to Hoxford, where he was very nearly being 
Senior Rangier. He came to London to study for the lor. 
His prospix was bright indead ; and He lived in a secknd flore 
in Jerming Street, having a ginteal inkuin of two hundred lbs. 
per hannum. 

“ With this andsum enuity it may be supposed that Fred- 
erick wanted for nothink. Nor did he. He was a moral and 
v/ell-educated young man, who took care of his close ; pollisht 
his hone tea-party boots ; cleaned his kidd-gloves with injer 
rubber; and, when not invited to dine out, took his meals 
reglar at the Hoxford and Cambridge Club — where (unless 
somebody treated him) he was never known to igseed his alf- 
pint of Marsally Wine. 

“ Merrits and vuttues such as his coodnt long pass unper- 
seavd in the world. Admitted to the most fashnabble parties, 
it wasn’t long befor sevral of the young ladies viewed him with 
a favorable i ; one, ixpecially, the lovely Miss Hemily Mullig- 
atawney, daughter of the Heast-Injar Derector of that name. 
As she was the richest gal of all the season, of corse Frederick 
fell in love with her. His haspirations were on the pint of 
being crowndid with success ; and it was agreed that as soon 
as he was called to the bar, when he would sutnly be apinted 
a Judge, or a revising barrister, or Lord Chanslor, he should 
lead her to the halter. 


LETTERS OF JEAMES, 


130 


“What life could be more desirable than Frederick’s? He 
gave up his mornings to perfeshnl studdy, under Mr. Bluebag, 
the heminent pleader ; he devoted his hevenings to helegant 
sosiaty at his Clubb, or with his hadord Hemily. He had no 
cares ; no detts ; no egstravigancies ; he never was known to 
ride in a cabb, unless one of his tip-top friends lent it him ; to 
go to a theayter unless he got a border ; or to henter a tavern 
or smoke a cigar. If prosperraty was hever chocked out, it was 
for that young man. 

“But sucknistances arose. Fatle suckmstances for pore 
Frederick Timmins. The Railway Hoperations began. 

“ For some time, immerst in lor and love, in the hardent 
hoccupations of his cheembers, or the sweet sosiaty of his 
Hemily, Frederick took no note of railroads. He did not 
reckonize the jigantic revalution which with hiron strides was 
a walkin over the country. But they began to be talked of 
even in his quiat haunts. Heven in the Hoxford and Cam- 
bridge Clubb, fellers were a speculatin. Tom Thumper ^of 
Brasen Nose) cleared four thousand lb. ; Bob Bullock (of 
Hexeter), who had lost all his proppaty gambling, had set- 
himself up again ; and Jack Deuceace, who had won it, had 
won a small istate besides by lucky specklations in the Share 
Markit. 

“ Hsvery body won. ‘ Why shouldn’t I ? ’ thought pore 
Fred ; and having saved 100 lb., he began a writin for shares 
— using, like an ickonominicle feller, as he was, the Clubb 
paper to a prodigious igstent. All the Railroad directors, his 
friends, helped him to shares — the allottments came tumbling 
in — he took the primmiums by fifties and hundreds a day. His 
desk was cramd full of bank notes : his brane w'orld with 
igsitement. 

“ He gave up going to the Temple, and might now be seen 
hall day about Capel Court. He took no more hinterest in 
lor ; but his whole talk was of railroad lines. His desk at Mr. 
Bluebag’s was filled full of prospectisises, and that legal gent 
wrote to Fred’s uncle, to say he feared he was neglectin his 
bisniss. 

“ Alass ! he was neglectin it, and all his sober and industerous 
habits. He begann to give .dinners, and thought nothin of 
partys to Greenwich or Richmond. He didn’t see his Hemily 
near so often : although the hawdacious and misguided young 
man might have done so much more heasily now than before : 
for now he kep a Broom ! 

“But there’s a tumminus to hevery Railway. Fred’s was 


yEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS, 


13 * 

approachin : in an evil hour he began making iime-bargings. 
Let this be a warning to all young fellers, and Fred’s huntimely 
hend hoperate on them in a moraLpint of vu ! 

“You all know under what favrabble suckemstanses the 
Great Hafrican Line, the Grand Niger Junction, or Gold Coast 
and Timbuctoo (Provishnal) Hatmospheric Railway came out 
four weeks ago : deposit ninepence per share of 20/. (six 
elephant’s teeth, twelve tons of palm-oil, or four healthy niggers, 
African currency) — the shares of this helegeble investment 
rose to I, 2, 3, in the Markit. A happy man was Fred when, 
after paying down 100 ninepences (3/. sold his shares 

for 250/. He gave a dinner at the “Star and Garter ” that 
very day. I promise you there was no Marsally there. 

“ Nex day they were up at 3^. This put Fred in a rage : 
they rose to 5, he was in afewry. ‘ What an ass I was to sell, 
said he, ‘ when all this money was to be won ! ’ 

“ ‘ And so you were an Ass,’ said his partiklar friend. Col- 
onel Claw, K. X. R., a director of the line, ‘ a double-eared Ass. 
My dear fellow, the shares will be at 15 next week. Will you 
give me your solemn word of honor not to breathe to mortal 
man what I am going to tell you ? ’ 

“ ‘ Honor bright,’ says Fred, 

“ ‘ Hudson has joined the Line,’ Fred didn’t say a 
word more, but went tumbling down to the City in his Broom. 
You know the state of the streats. Claw we 7 it by water. 

“ ‘ Buy me one thousand HafricanS for the 30th,’ cries 
Fred, busting into his broker’s ; and they were done for him 
at 

“ Can’t you guess the rest t Haven’t you seen the Share 
List ? which says : — 

“ ‘ Great Africans, paid gl . ; price par.’ 

“ And that’s what came of my pore dear friend Timmins’s 
time-barging. 

“ What’ll become of him I can’t say ; for nobody has seen 
him since. His lodgins in Jerming Street is to let. His brokers 
in vain deplores his absence. His Uncle has declared his 
marriage with his housekeeper ; and the Morning Erald (that 
emusing print) has a paragraf yesterday in the fashnabble news, 
headed ‘ Marriage in High Life. — The rich and beautiful Miss 
Mnlligatawney, of Portland Place is to be speedily united to 
Colonel Claw. K. X. R.’ 

“ Jeames.” 


*32 


LETTERS OF JEAMES* 


JEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION. 

You will scarcely praps reckonize in this little skitch tha 
haltered liniments of i, with woos face the reders of your 
valluble mislny were once fimiliar, — the unfortnt Jeames de la 
Pluche, fomly so selabrated in the fashnabble suckles, now the 
pore Jeames Plush, landlord of the “ Wheel of Fortune public 
house. Yes, that is me ; that is my haypun which I wear as 
becomes a publican — those is the checkers which hornyment the 
pillows of my dor. I am like the Roman Genral, St.Xenatus, 
equal to any emudgency of Fortun. I, who have drunk Sham- 
pang in my time, aint now abov droring a -J- pint of Small 
Bier. As for my wife — that Angel — I’ve not ventured to depigt 
he7\ Fansy her a sittn in the Bar, smilin like a sunflower — and, 
ho, dear Punch ! happy in nussing a deer little darlint totsy- 
wotsy of a Jeames, with my air to a curl, and my i’s to a T ! 

“ I never thought I should have been injuiced to write any- 
thing but a Bill agin, much less to edress you on Railway Sub- 
jix — which with all my sole I abaw. Railway letters, obbigations 
to pay hup, ginteal inquirys as to my Salissator’s name, &c., 
&c., I dispize and scorn artily. But as a man, an usbnd, a 
father, and a freebon Brittn, my jewty compels me to .come for- 
woods, and igspress my opinion upon that 7iashnal newsance — • 
the break of Gage. 

“ An enteresting ewent in a noble family with which I once 
very nearly had the honer of being kinected, acurd a few weex 

sins, when the Lady Angelina S , daughter of the Earl of 

B — ^ — cres, presented the gallant Capting, her usband, with a 
Son & hair. Nothink would satasfy her Ladyship but that her 
old and attacht famdyshamber, my wife Mary Hann Plush, 

should be presnt upon this hospicious occasion. Capting S 

was not jellus of me on account of my former attachment to his 
Lady. I consented that my Mary Hann should attend her, 
and me, my wife, and our dear babby acawdingly set out for our 
noable frend’s residence. Honeymoon Lodge, near Cheltenham. 

“ Sick of all Railroads myself, I wisht to poast it in a Chay 
and 4 , but Mary Hann, with the hobstenacy of her Sex, was 
bent upon Railroad travelling, and I yealded, like ail husbinds. 
We set out by the Great Westn, in an eavle Hour. 

“We didnt take much luggitch — my wife’s things in the 
ushal bandboxes — mine in a potmancho. Our dear little James 


yEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION. 


133 

Angelo’s (called so in complament to his noble Godmamma) 
craddle, and a small supply of a few 100 weight of Topsan- 
bawtems, Farinashious food, and Lady’s fingers, for that dear 
child, who is now 6 months old, with a perdidgus appatite. Like- 
wise we were charged with a bran new Medsan chest for my 
lady, from Skivary & Morris, containing enough rewbub, 
Daffy’s Alixir, Godfrey’s cawdle, with a few score of parsles 
for Lady Flangelina’s family and owsehold ) about 2000 spessy- 
mins of Babby linning from Mrs. Flummary’s in Regent Street, 
a Chayny Cresning bowl from old Lady Bareacres (big enough 
to immus a Halderman), & a case marked ‘ Glass,’ from her 
ladyship’s meddicle man, which were stowed away together; 
had to this an ormylew Cradle, with rose-colored Satting & Pink 
lace hangings, held up by a gold tuttle-dove, &c. We had, in- 
gluding James Hangelo’s rattle & my umbrellow, 73 packidges 
in all. 

“ We got on very well as far as Swindon, where, in the 
Splendid Refreshment room, there was a galaxy of lovely gals 
in cottn velvet spencers, who serves out the soop, and i of whom 
maid an impresshn upon this Art which I shoodn’t like Mary 
Hann to know — and here, to our infanit disgust, we changed 
carridges. I forgot to say that we were in the secknd class, 
having with us James Plangelo, and 23 other light harticles. 

“ Fust inconveniance ; and ahnost as bad as break of gage. 

I cast my hi upon the gal in cottn velvet, and wanted some 
soop, of coarse ; but seasing up James Hangelo (who was layin 
his dear little pors on an Am Sangwidg) and seeing my, 
igspresshn of hi — ‘ James,’ says Mary Hann, ‘ instead of looking 
at that young lady — and not so very young, neither — be pleased 
to look to our packidges, & place them in the other carridge.’ 

I did so with an evy Art. I eranged them 23 articles in the 
opsit carridg, only missing my umberella & baby’s rattle ; and 
just as I came back for my baysn of soop, the beast of a bell 
rings, the whizzling injians proclayms the time of our depart- 
ure. — & farewell soop and cottn velvet. Mary Hann was sulky. 
She said it was my losing the umberella. If it had been a 
^ottofi velvet U 7 )iberella I could have understood. James Hangelo 
sittn on my knee was evidently unwell ; without his coral : & 
for 20 miles that blessid babby kep up a rawring, which caused 
all the passingers to simpithize with him igseedingly. 

“ We arrive at Gloster, and there fansy my disgust at bein 
ableeged to undergo another change of carridges ! Fancy me 
holding up moughs, tippits, cloaks, and bask its, and James 
Hangelo rawring still like mad, and pretending to shuperintend 


134 


LETTERS OF JEAMES. 


the carrying over our luggage from the broad gage to the 
narrow gage. ‘ Mary Hann/ says I, rot to desperation, ‘ I 
shall throttle this darling if- he goes on.’ ‘ Do,’ says she — ‘ and 
^0 into the refreshment room, says she — a snatchin the babby 
out of my arms. ‘ Do go,’ sa3'S she, ‘youre not fit to look after 
luggage,’ and she began lulling James Hangelo to sleep with 
one hi, while she looked after the packets with the other. ‘ Now 
Sir ! if you please, mind that packet ! — pretty darling — easy 
with that box. Sir, its glass — pooooty poppet — where’s the deal 
case, marked arrowroot. No. 24? ’ she cried, reading out of a 
list she had. — And poor little J ames went to sleep. The porters 
were bundling and carting the various harticles with no more 
ceremony than if each package had been of cannon-ball. 

“ At last — bang goes a package marked ‘ Glass,’ and con- 
taining the Chayny bowl and Lady Bareacres’ mixture, into a 
large white bandbox, with a crash and a smash. ‘ It’s My 
Lady’s box from Crinoline’s ! ’ cries Mary Hann ; and she puts 
down the child on the bench, and rushes forward to inspect the 
dammidge. You could hear the Chayny bowls clinking inside ; 
and Lady B.’s mixture (which had the igsack smell of cherry 
brandy) was dribbling out over the smashed bandbox contain- 
ing a white child’s cloak, trimmed with Blown lace and lined 
with white satting, 

“ As James was asleep, and I was by this time uncommon 
hungry, I thought I would go into the Refreshment Room and 
just take a little soup ; so I wrapped him up in his cloak and 
laid him by his mamma, and went off. There’s not near such 
good attendance as at Swindon. 

* * * * # ' * # 

We took our places in the carriage in the dark, both of us 
covered with a pile of packages, and Mary Hann so sulky that 
she would not speak for some minutes. At last she spoke 
out — 

‘ Have you all the small parcels ? 

‘Twenty-three in all,’ says 1 . 

“ “ Then give me the baby,’ 

“ ‘ Give you what ’ says I. 

“ ‘ Give me the baby.’ ^ 

“ ‘ What, haven’t y-y-yoooo got him ? ’ says 1 . 
****** 

“O Mussy ! You should have heard her sreak ! Wdd left 
him on the ledge at Gloster. 

“It all came of the break of srasre.” 

00 


MR, JEAMES AGAIN. 


I3S 


MR. JEAMES AGAIN. 

“ Dear Mr. Punch, — As newmarus inquiries have been 
maid both at my privit ressddence, ‘ lire Wheel of Fortune 
OteV and at your Hoffis, regarding the fate of that dear babby, 
James Hangelo, whose primmiture dissappearnts caused such 
hagnies to his distracted parents, I must begg, dear sir, the 
permission to ockupy a part of your valuble collams once more, 
and hease the public mind about my blessid boy. 

“ Wictims of that nashnal cuss, the Broken Gage, me and 
Mrs. Plush was left in the train to Cheltenham, soughring from 
that most disagreeble of complaints, a halmost broken Art. The 
skreems of Mrs. Jeames might be said almost to out-Y the 
squeel of the dying, as we rusht into that fashnable Spaw, and 
my pore Mary Hann found it was not Baby, but Bundles I had 
in my lapp. 

“ When the Old Dowidger Lady Bareacres, who was waiting 
heagerly at the train, herd that owing to that abawminable 
brake of Gage the luggitch, her Ladyship’s Cherrybrandy box, 
the cradle for Lady Hangelina’s baby, the lace, crockary and 
chany, was rejuiced to one immortial smash ; the old cat howld 
at me and pore dear Mary Hann, as if it was huss, and not the 
infunnle Brake of Gage, was to blame ; and as if we ad no 
misfortns of our hown to deplaw. She bust out about my 
stupid imparence j called Mary Hann a good for nothink 
creecher, and wep, and abewsd, and took on about her broken 
Chayny Bowl, a great deal more than she did about a dear little 
Christian child. ‘ Don’t talk to me abowt your bratt of a 
babby’ (seshe) ; ‘ where’s my bowl ? — where’s my bewtiffle Pint 
lace ? — All in rewins through your stupiddaty, you brute, 
you ! ’ 

“ ‘ Bring your haction against the Great Western, Maam,^ 
says I, quite riled by this crewel and unfealing hold wixen. 
‘Ask the pawters at Gloster, why your goods is spiled — it’s not 
the first time theyve been asked the question. Git the gage 
haltered against the next time you send for medsan — and mean- 
wild buy some at the “ Plow ” — they keep it very good and 
strong there, I’ll be bound. Has for us, wdre going back to 
the cussid station at Gloster, in such of our blessid child.’ 

“ ‘ You don’t mean to say, young woman,’ seshe, ‘ that 
you’re not going to Lady Hangelina : what’s her dear boy to 
do ? who’s to nuss it ? ’ 


136 


LETTERS OF JEAMES. 

You nuss it, Maam,* says I. ‘Me and Mary Hann 
return this momint by the Fly.’ And so (whishing her a 
suckastic ajew) Mrs. Jeames and 1 lep into a one oss weakle, 
and told the driver to go like mad back to Gloster. 

“ I can’t describe my pore gals hagny juring our ride. She 
sat in the carridge as silent as a milestone, and as madd as a 
march Air. When we got to Gloster she .sprang hout of it as 
wild as a Tigris, and rusht to the station, up to the fatle 
Bench. 

“ ‘ My child, my child,’ shreex she, in a boss, hot voice. 
‘ Where’s my infant ? a little bewtifle child, with blue eyes, — 
dear Mr. Policeman, give it me— a thousand guineas for it.’ 

“ ‘ Faix, Mam,’ says the man, a Hirishman, ‘ and the divvle 
a babby have I seen this day except thirteen of my own — and 
you’re welcome to any one of them^ and kindly.’ 

“ ‘ As if his babby was equal to ours,’ as my darling Mary 
Hann said, afterwards. All the station was scrouging round 
us by this time — pawters & clarx and refreshmint people and 
all. ‘ What’s this year row about that there babby ? ’ at last 
says the Inspector, stepping hup. I thought my wife was 
going to jump into his harms. ‘ Have you got him ? ’ says she. 

“ ‘ Was it a child in a blue cloak ? ’ says he. 

“ ‘ And blue eyes ! ’ says my wife. 

“ ‘ I put a label on him and sent him on to Bristol ; he’s 
there by this time. The Guard of the Mail took him and put 
him into a letter-box,’ says he : ‘ he went 20 minutes ago. We 
found him on the broad gauge line, and sent him on by it, in 
course,’ says he. ‘ And it’ll be a caution to you, young woman, 
for the future, to label your children along with the rest of 
your luggage.’ 

“ If my piguniary means had been such as once they was, 
you may emadgine I’d have ad a speshle train and been hoff 
like smoak. As it was, we was obliged to wait 4 mortial hours 
for the next train (4 ears they seemed to us), and then away 
we went. 

“ ‘ My boy ! my little boy ! ’ says poor choking Mary Hann, 
when we got there. ‘ A parcel in a blue cloak ? ’ says the man. 
‘ No body claimed him here, and so we sent him back by the 
mail. An Irish nurse here gave him some supper, and he’s at 
Paddington by this time. Yes,’ says he, looking at the clock, 
‘ he’s been there these ten minutes.’ 

“ But seeing my poor wife’s distracted histarricle state, this 
good-naterd man says, ‘ I think, my dear, there’s a way to ease 
your mind. We’ll know in five minutes how he is.’ 


MR. JEAMES AGAIN. 


137 


“ ‘ Sir,’ says she, ‘ don’t make sport of me.’ 

“‘No, my dear, we’ll telegraph him.’ 

“ And he began hopparating on that singlar and ingenus 
elecktricle inwention, which aniliates time, and carries intella- 
gence in the twinkling of a peg-post. 

“ ‘ I’ll ask,’ says he, ‘for child marked G. W. 273.’ 

“ Back comes the telegraph with the sign ‘ All right.’ 

“ ‘ Ask what he’s doing, sir,’ says my wife, quite amazed. 
Back comes the answer in a Jiffy — 

“ ‘ C. R. Y. I. N. G.’ 

“ This caused all the bystanders to laugh excep my pore 
Mary Hann, who pull’d a very sad face. 

“ The good-naterd feller presently said, ‘ he’d have another 
trile;’ and what d’ye think was the answer? I’m blest if it 
wasn’t — 

“ ‘ P. A. P.’ ^ 

“ He was eating pap ! There’s for you — there’s a rogue 
for you — there’s a March of Intaleck ! Mary Hann smiled now 
for the fust time. ‘ He’ll sleep now,’ says she. And she sat 
down with a full hart. * * * 

“ If hever that good-naterd Shooperintendent comes to 
London, he need never ask for his skore at the ‘Wheel of 
Fortune Otel,’ I promise you — where me and my wife and 
James Hangelo now is and where only yesterday a gent came 
-in and drew a pictur of us in our bar. 

“ And if they go on breaking gages ; and if the child, the 
most precious luggidge of the Henglishman, is to be bundled 
about this year way, why it won’t be for want of warning, both 
from Professor Harris, the Commission, and from 

“ My dear Mr. Punch's obeajent servant, 

Jeames Plush.’ 


V 


V f - ^ 


• V •'* 

4 


T 

) . 


-I 

/ 


# 




KX r 


, . s’ A ' 

* . >A J . . - _ 


•\ . 


• f i . > ■ ^ -■ '■ 


'S^r-o > -. V »'• "C ' ’ ■* - ■ ■ . ' ^ . f^- ■ . » . ‘ v_ 

t ■ " .s . ' ■* . • ^ ' V 

c .*.,;;r< ^ ^ • ■ *’ : 'W V-.--£ / •-*:• -\ * 

'‘^‘.r ^ :k^\' • v'" ^.y ^ 

J#- ^ ^ r- ^ r - • . *•• ♦ ...... . • - • • - 


.V: 



r % 


V 




♦ / 




• f 


\ 




' p s/ 


:V .vJvMr.v^- 


t • 


» • 

4 # .• 






^ I • I 


-^0 


,>• 


. > 


>v; \ •.- ii , ••.' 


f 

» w 


'i ^ 




. ..! •%. *. '. 
». •.: 




* . ' V‘ .v-t .... ‘ 

- • -' • ' ‘ • r ’ .v: ^•'-. ••• ' ^ 

: u*' •,; . :* 

^■, “ .■ ' i i!*':"'' .;r *V ' » •;■ • 

* — ^ T . ^ ^ 


* 'V 

I 

f 


' : :< } ^ 
•- ' f 


»--V. . 


»/ 


« 




t » . F 


. ‘ y ^ 


S\ I ' * 
» * c 


* % 




vyii -^.V^:.:t. ■;■..; 

#•' » , ' - ' ^ ^ I ^ ‘r 

t _.; -■rill: J, 


... . 




r iv ' 

‘ -' , . 


♦ > W -J • 4 isr, ' 


% 

• S. ' 


,r ^ ' r 


. .ji . 


/* . 




• 4 

w •# 


* - ^ • , . . . * 

* & # . A 


•. '. S. . 


t 


< - 

^ • 

Ir* 


« 

7 ' 


*> r 


^ • I 


* .' ' Y :.'*K 

*' 1 i* ■ 

V«.* ^ yK , f.. 


, 0 0 \' ^ ▼ W *, • • apr • ' ^ ® • .* • . 

• • • . • * 

'.'•■vr'l'i; :v. •;• j. ^ ';;-b^?';K' ,< .' •/ 

'/ -''*^*: 'tJ”/ >/.. ’I ..’.‘i^/ {; ^ " .. 

/ , . -^ ^ ^ * * • • * * 


i 


. N 


4 • 


<-i 




^ - 


0 


N 


•» - W r 

1. ,i ^ 


• >• ' 

9 


» 


I' 




’ ^ 

4 


{ 


■-" ■' - ■'" •> .•■'.■■ * ^. ■ • ■> 

« « • -Jt ..J,‘ ! k *. 


' / » » f 

♦ •♦r.* ’ 


\ ^ ' «• ^ ■-‘ - ■ 

^■if i-rA ’7t^ 


\ / 


• r 

• 'V ' 

- * *^“. 






V > 




r* f f* *• * 

.. . l> 1» r,. V 




■* -.■ "■■ '’*■ ," <'• ■ ■■ ^ '■ -■■ 'I' '■- ■■>'< -•■ .' rr wr--' S 

'^'1 ' ■'-' vr^’C;i'7 Jis‘' ‘K^ 'I'.: ' ;■ 

. ; !;-;'1 ^.^ / l-ur- ,, :.r;'i ■^■fU \: r;. If: - " • vlCr'l ;C/ 1 - 









r, \ •. 

;■ 

' .t* - r 


> ,,’ '. IrifVfrftX-fo -i^r 

\KUo.l'i , 'S . . • / 


i 


.«W 
.X • 




. ♦ 


. 9 *. 


< " 


•F.* 




;' . 






« • 

r. • Ni 


n‘‘' ' 


/• 


X. 






\ 


/- 


il • 

• 


\ , 

k • 


•y-r- ' 




. > 


1 1 • '■•' - 


4 . 


•T / 


t • 

J 






^ X 


. P ' 


" ’ . .w 


x‘'> 




t 

■t?v 





A 

• > 




'/'• . 


r 


s « 

> I 

-9 


X f 

> - 


% 

^ i4 I 






V 


. jt 




' V 


".i' - 


\ 


• c, e_ 

« 

\ «' 






A • 


% k 


f - * ■ ^' ^ 

'■■■•': 'is. 






» 


. • ,. . cN r ■ .' . • ^ 

* • V _ * . 




ENOCH MOEOAN’S SONS? 




«a-It-AJCT3Da SQ,TJ-AJEU53 JK-ISHP TTIPEIO-STT I^X-AJETOS, 
The demands now made by an educated musical public are so 
exacting, that very few pi. mo-forte manufacturers can produce instru- 
ments that will stand the test which merit requires. 

SoHMER & Co., as manufacturers, rank among this chosen few, 
who are acknowledged to be makers of standard instruments. In 
these days when many manufacturers urge the low price of their 
wares, rather than their superior quality, as an inducement to pur- 
chase, it may not be amiss to suggest tliat, in a piano, quality and 
price are too inseparably joined, to expect the one without the other. 

Every piano ought to be judged as to the quality of its tone, its 
touch, and its workmanship ; if any 0113 of these is wanti»:gin excel- 
lence, however good the others may be, the instrument Wvll be imper- 
fect. It is the combination of all those qualities in the highest degree 
that constitutes the perfect piano, and it is such a combination, as has 
given the SOHMER its hono rable positi on with the trade and public. 

Pricesas reasonableasconsiftent 
with the Highest Standardt 

MAISUFAGTURERS, 

149 to 155 East 14th St., N.Y. 




THE BEST 



EVER INVENTED- 


No Lady, Married or 
Single, Rich or Poor, 
Housekeeping or Board- 
ing, will be without it 
after testing its utility. 

Sold by all first-class 
Grocers, but beware of 
wf "^thless imitations. 




EYSTOWP* Thefineetorganinthe 

LMiav^lVB^C, Market. Price reduced 

from $175 to $125. Acclimatized case. Anti-Shoddy and Anti-Monopoly. Not all case, 
stops, top and advertisement. ‘Warranted for 6 years. Has the Excelsior 18-Stop 
Combination, embracing : Diapason, Flute, Melodia-Porte, Tiolina, Aeolina, Viola, 
Flute-Forte, Celeste, Dulcet, Echo, ^lelodia, Celestina, Octave Coupler, Tremelo, 
Sub-Bass, Cello, Grand-Org-an Air Brake, Grand-Crga.i Swell. Two Knee- 
Stops. This is a Walnut case, with Music Balcony, Sliding J;- sk, Side Handles, &c. 
Dimensions : Height, 75 inches; Length, 48 inches; Depth, 24 inches. This 5-Octave 
Organ, with Stool, Book and Music, we will box and deliver at dock in New York, for 
$125 <iend by express, prepaid, check, or registered letter to 

DICKIITSOIT & CO., Pianos and Organs, 

19 West nth Street, New York. 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


RECENTLY PUBLISHED: 

UNDERGROUND RUSSIA: 

Revolutionary Profiles anti Sketches from Life. 

By STEPNIAK, formerly Editor of “ Zpmlm i Volia ” (Land and 
Liberty). With a Preface by PETER LAVROPP. Translated 
from the Italian. 1 vol. 12mo., paper cover, Lovell’s Library, 
No. 173 price 20 cents. 

“The book is as yet uoiqne in literature; it is a priceless contribntion to 
our knowledge of R:;ssian thought and feeling; as a true and faithful reflection 
of certain aspects of. perhaps, the most tremendous poiiticial movement in 
Mstory, it seems destined to become a standard work.’’— A thbNuEum. 


An Outline of the History of Ireland, 

Prom the Earliest Times to the present day. 

By JUSTIN H. McCARTHY. 1 voi. 12mo., Lovell’s Library 
No. 115, price 10 cents. 

“A timejy and exceedingly vigorous and interesting little volume. The book 
is worthy of attentive perusal, and will be all the mure interesting because it 
involves in its production the warm symparhies, the passionate enthusiasm, and 
the vivid brilliancy of style which one is glad to welcome from the son of the 
distinguished journalist and author.’’— Christian Worrd. 

“All Irishmen who love their country, and all candid Englishmen, ought to 
welcome Mr. Justin H. McCarthy’s litile volume — ‘An Outline of Irish History.’ 
Tho.«e who want to know how it has come about that, as John Stuart Mill long 
ago pointed out, all cries for the remedy of specific Irish grievances are now 
merged in the dangerous demand for nationality, will do well to read Mr. 
McCarthy b little book. It is eloquently written, and carries us from the earliei t 
legends to the autumn of 1^82. The charm of the style and the Impetuousness 
in the flow of the narrative are refreshing and stimulating, and, as regards his- 
toric impartiality, Mr.McCarthy is far more just than is Mr.Froude. ’— Graphic. 

“A brightly written and intelligent account of the leading events in Irish 

annals Mr. McCarthy has performed a diflioult task with commendable 

good spirit and impartiality.’’— W hitehari. Review. 

‘To those who enjoy exceptionally brilliant and vigorous writing, as well 
as to those who desire to post themselves up in the Irish question, we cordially 
recommend Mr. McCarthy’s little book.”— Evening News. 


ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS. 


Edited by JOHN MORLEY. 

Published in 12mo. vols., paper covers, price 10 cents each. 


Johnson By Leslie Stephen. 

Scott. By R. H II ittoii. 

Gibbon. By J C. Morison. 

Shelley. By J. A. Symonds. 

Hume. By Prof Huxley, P R.S. 
Goldsmith. By William Black. 
Defoe. ByW’'.Minto. 

Burns. By Principal Shairp. 
Spenser. Bj the Very Rev. the Dean 
of St. Paul’s. 


Thackeray. By A. Trollope. 
Burke. By John Mor ey. 
Bunyan. By J. A. Froude. 

Pope.' By L slic Stephen. 

Byron. By Profes.-or Nichol. 
CowpER. By Gold win Smith. 
Locke. By Professor Fowler. 
Wordsworth. By F.W.H. Myers. 
Milton. By Mark Pattison. 
Southey. By Professor Dowden. 
Chaucer. By Prof. A. Wf . W ard. 


I*^cwYorR: JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY. 



LOVELL’S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


JXJST lE^TJBXjISIEailEZXD. 

VICE VERSA; 

Or, A LESSON TO FATHERS. 

By F. ANSTEY. 

I Tol,, 12mo., cloth gilt, $1.00; 1 vol., 12mo., paper, 50 cents; also in Lovell’s 

Library, No. 30, 20 cents. ' 

EXTRACTS FROM NOTICES BY THE PRESS. 

THE SATURDAY REVIEW — “ If there ever was a book made up from 
beginning to end ol laughter, yet not a comic oook. ora Tneny’ book, or i 
book of jokes, or a book of pictures, or a jest book, or a tomfool book, but a 
perfectly sober and serious book, in the reading of which a sober man may 
laugh witho'Jt shame from beginning to end.it is the book called ‘Vice 
Versa; or, a Lesson to Fathers.’. . We close the book, recommending it 
very earnestly to all fathers, in the first instance, and their sons, nephews, 
uncles, and male cousins next.” 

THE PALL MALL GAZETTE.— “ ‘Vice Versa is one of the mo.-’t 
diverting books that we have read f@r many a day. It is equally calculated to 
amuse the August idler, and to keep up the spirits of those who stay in town 
and work, while others are holiday- making. . . The book is singularly well 

written, graphic, ter.^e. and full of nerve. The school boy conversations are 
to the life, and every scene is brisk and well considered.” 

THE ATHEN.(EUM. — “ The whole story is told with delightful .drollery 
and spirit, and there is not a dull page in the volume. It should be added that 
Mr Anstey writes well, and in a style admirably suited to his amusing subject • 

THE SPECTATOR — “ Mr. Anstey deserves the thanks of everybody for 
showing that there is still a little fun left in this world ... It is long since we 
read anything more truly humorous. . . We must admit that we have not 
laughed so heartily over anything for some years baci as we have over this 
‘ Lesson for Fathers.’ ” 

THE ACADEMY — “ It is certainly the best book of its kind that has ap- 
peared for a long lime, and in the way of provoking laughter by certain old- 
fashioned means, which do not involve satire or sarcasm, it has lew rivals.’ 

THE WORLD.— ‘‘ The idea of a father and son exchanging their identity 
has suggested itself to many minds before now. It is illustrated in this book 

with surprising freshness, originality and force The book is more than 

wildly comic and amusing; it is in parts exceedingly pathetic.” 

THE COURT JOURNAL. —“ The story is told with so much wit and 
gayety that we cannot be deceived in our impression of ihe future career of F. 
Anstey being destined to attain the greatest success among the most popular 
authors of the day.” 

VANITY FAIR -*• The book is, in our opinion, the drollest work ever 
written in the English language.” 

TRUTH.—” Mr. Anstey has done .m exceedingly diflicult thing so admira- 
bly and artfully as to conceal its difficulties. Haven’t for years read so irresist- 
ibly humorous a book.” 


NEW YORK ; 

JOHN W. IjOVELL CO., 14 and 16 Vesey Street. 


RECEISTTLY PUBLISHED. 


Attractive new editions of the following celebrated works of Sir Edward 
Balwer, Lord Lyttou, 

By LORD LYTTON. 

1 vol., 12mo., large type, good paper, well bound, cloth, gilt, $1.00; also in 
Lovell's Library, handsome paper cover, 20 cents. 

This work is happily conceived and ablv executed. It is flowing and grace, 
inl in style and both piques and rewards the curiosity of the reader. 


THE COMING RACE; 

Or, THE NEW UTOPIA. 

By LORD LYTTON. 

1 vol., 12mo., large, clear type, good paper, attractive cover, 10 cents. 

Without deciding on the comparative share of imagination and memory in 
the concoction of the work, we may pronounce it one of the most attractive 
books of the many interesting volumes of this popular author. 


A STRANGE STORY. 

By LORD LYTTON.’ 

1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt, $1.00; also in Lovell’s Library, handsome cover, 
20 cents. 

The plot shows discrimination of judgment as well as force of expression, 
and its vigor of conception and brilliancy of description makes it one of his 
most readable novels. 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE; 

Or, The House and the Brain, to which is added, Calderon, the 

Courtier. 

By LORD LYTTON. 

1 vol., 12mo., large type, good paper, handsome cover, 10 cents. 

This is a weird imaginative creation of singnlar power, showing intensity of 
conception and a knowledge of the remarkable effects of spiritual influences. 

Pull Descriptive Catalogue sent on application. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Publishers, 

14 & 16 Vesey Street, IVew York, 



LOVELL’S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


K/EJOEZSTTIjY 

HEART AND SCIENCE. 

By WILKIE COLLINS. 


1 Vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt $1.00 

1 “ “ paper 50 

'Also in Loveire Library, No. 87 20 


“ Benjulia” is a singularly interesting, and, in a way, fascinating creation. 
Mr. Collius can deal strongly with a strong situation, but he has done nothing 
more powerful than his sketch of Benjulia's last hours. Mr. Gallilee and Zoe 
are capital exanipies of genuine and unforced humor; and the book, as a 
whole, is thoroughly readable and enthralling from its first page to its last.” — 
Academy. 

“ Mr. Wilkie Collins’ latest novel is certainly one of the ablest he has writ- 
ten. It is quite the equal of ‘The Woman in White’ and of ‘The Moon- 
stone,’ consequently it majr truthfully be described as a masterpiece in the 
eculiar line of fiction in which Mr. Collins not only excels but distances every 
ival in the walk of literature he has marked out for himself. ‘ Heart and 
Science ’ is in its way a great novel, certainly the best we have seen from Mr. 
Wilkie Collins since ‘ The Womanin White ’ and ‘ Armadale.’” — Morning Post. 

” We doubt whether the author has ever written a cleverer story. . . . An 
eloquent and touching tribute to the blessedness and power of a true and 
1 oving heart. The book unites in a high degree the attractions of thrilling nar- 
rati\ e and clever portraiture of character, of sound wisdom and real humor.” — 
Con gregationalist . 


By OUIDA. 


1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt $1.00 

1 “ “ paper 50 

Also in Lovell’s Library, No. 112, 2 parts, each 15 


‘“Wanda’ is the story by which Ouida will probably be judged by the 
literary historian of the future, for it is distinguished by all her high merits, 
and not disfigured by any one of her few defects. In poiutof construction this ' 
most recent contribution to the fictional literature of the day is perfect; the 
di dogues are both brilliant and stirring, and the descriptive passages are mas- 
terpieces. Ouida is seen at her brighteat and best in ‘Wanda’ . the book thrills 
by Its dramatic interest, and delights by its singular freshness and unconven- 
tional style. There are no more attractive characters in English fiction than 
Wanda and her peasant husband, and increased fame must result to the bril- 
liant novelist from this her latest work.”-AY. SUphen's Peview. 

“ We do not know anything Ouida has done that equals this, her latest 
novel, in power of delineating character and describing scenery. Wanda is a 
fine, high-souled character.” — Citizen. 

‘‘A powerful and fa-»cinating novel, deeply interesting, with excellent 
character portrayal, and written in that sparkling stvle for which Ouida is 
f amous. * Wanda ’ de.«erves to take rank by the side of the best of her previous 
novels.” — Darlington Post. 

‘ Wanda ’ contains much that is striking. The central idea is finely 
worked out. We have seen nothing from Ouida’s pen that strikes us as being, 
on the whole, so well conceived and so skilfully wrought oxA."— Spectator. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 

14 & 10 Vesey Street, New York. 



LOVELL’S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


POPULAR NOVELS RECENTLY PUBLISHED. 


Mr. William Bla 
YOLANDE, The S1 
By William Black, Author of “ 
Thule,” “The Strange Adve 
12mo., «loth, gilt, $1.00; 1 -v 
in Lovell’s Library, No. IS 
“A thoroughly pleasant, readable 
book, showing all Mr. Black’s best 
qualities as a novelist.”— Pa// Mali 
Gazette. 

“The novel will satisfy Mr. Black’s 

ck’s New Novel, 
tory of a Daughter, 

Shandon Bells,” “A Princess of 
ntures of a Phaeton,” etc.; 1 vol., 
rol., 12mo., paper, 50 cents; also 

6, 20 cents. 

numerous admirers that his right 
hand has lost none of its cunning.” 
—St. James' Gazette. 

“ ‘Yolande’ will plea«e and interest 
many.’ — Whilekall Review. 

The LADIES LINDORES 

published in Blackwood’s Mage 

“She is always readable, but never 
so entertaining as when she lays the 
scene in Scotland . It is impossible 
to imagine sketches more lifelike than 
those of old Rolls, the pragmatic but- 
ler of Miss Barbara Erskine,, the 
high-spirited, punctilious, but sensi- 
ble old aunt; of Lord Rintoul, the 
weakly yet coolly selfish aud sensible 
young lord of the ordinary young 

. By Mrs. Oliphant. Originally 
tzine. 1 vol., 12ino., cloth, gilt, $1. 
laird John Erskine, and of the most 
modern of marquises, Lord Mille- 
fleurs. ’ Spectator. 

“ ‘The Ladies Lindores’ is in every 
respect excellent There are two 
girls at least in this book who might 
make the fortune of any novel, being 
deliciously feminine and natural.”— 
Satiirday Review. 

LOYS, LORD BERESFOL 

Author of “Phyllis,” “Mollj 
1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt, $1.( 
126, 1 vol., 12rao., paper cot 
“That delightful writer, the author 
of ‘Phyllis,' has given us a collection 
of stories which cannot fail to be pop- 

1.D, and other Tales. By the 

1 Bawn,” “Mrs. Geoffrey,” etc. 

K); also in Lovell’s Library, No. 
rer, 20 cents. 

ular. There is something good in all 
of them, and one or two are especially 
racy and piquant. The Academy. 

NO NEW THING-. By W 

mony,” “Mademoiselle de N 
gilt, $1.00; also in Lovell’s 
“M r. Norris has succeeded. His 
story, ‘No New Thing,’ is a very curi- 
ous one — There is unmistakable 
capacity in his work.” — Spectator. 

K. Norris, Author of “Matri- 
ersac,” etc. 1 vol., 12mo., cloth, 
Library, No. 108, 20 cents. 

“ ‘No New Thing’ is bright, readable 
and clever, and in every sense of the 
word a thoroughly interesting book.” 

Whitehall Review. 

ARDEN. By A. Mary F. Robi 
Library, No. 134, 15 cents. 

“Miss Robinson must certainly be 
congratulated on having scored a suc- 
C' SS at the tfery beginning of her ca- 
reer. ‘Arden’ is an extremely clever 
story, and though it is oue merely of 
every-day life, yet the incidents are so 
clothed as to appear fresh and new, 
aud the scent of the hay throughout 
is invigorating and refreshing. The 
heroine, who gives her name to the 
book, is a wild, impulsive creature 
whom one cannot help liking, in spite 
of various weaknesses in her char- 

NSON. 1 vol., 12mo., in Lovell’s 

acter. Brought up in Rome, on the 
death of her father, Arden returns to 
his native village in Warwickshire, 
there to make acquaintance with the 
truest and freshest country people we 
have ever met on paper. The story 
is simply that of Arden’s life and 
marriage, but it is never wearisome 
because of the sharpness of the writ- 
ing, aud we have to thank Miss Robin- 
son for a very good novel indeed.”— 
Whitehall Review. 


New York JSHN W. I^OVEILL. COMPANY. 



XjOT7“EIL.3L.’S 

Laughter Literature. 


12mo, price, in paper, 50 cents, in cloth, $1.00. 

THE SPOOPENDYKE PAPERS, by Stanley Huntley, of 
the Brooklyn Eagle, 

A book of domestic scenes, between a nervous, petulent husband 
and a patient, unsophisticated wife. The irritable Spoopendyke 
and his meek spouse are most amusing creations. 

PIKE COUNTY FOLKS, by E. H. Mott, of the N. Y. Sun, 

illustrated by F. Opper, of Puck. 

Truthful Talks in uncontrollable language — irresistibly funny. 

JETS AND FLASHES, by Henry Clay Lukens (Erratic En- 
rique), the “ New York News’ Man,” illustrated by Rene Bache. 

“A more acceptable or timely work by a native manufacturer of 
broad grins can hardly be found.” — N. Y. Star, 

FAMOUS FUNNY FELLOWS, by Will M. Clemens,, illustrated 
with portraits of notable humorists. 

Brief biographical sketches of American humorists, with extracts 
from their funniest inspirations. 

GRANDFATHER LICKSHINGLE, AND OTHER 
SKETCHES, by R. W. Criswell, of the Cincinnati Enquirer, 
profusely illustrated. 

A quaint literary creation. 

WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS, by Mrs. Frances M. Whitcher, 
originally contributed to Neal’s Saturday Gazette. 

THE CHOICE WORKS OP THOMAS HOOD, in Prose 
and Verse, including the cream of the Comic Annuals, with 200 
illustrations. 

MRS. CAUDLE’S CURTAIN LECTURES, by Douglas 
Jerrold, editor of Punch. 

Mrs. Margaret Caudle’s inimitable night lectures, delivered during 
a period of thirty years, to her sulky husband. Job Caudle. 


New York: T^HN W. I.OVEI.I. CO., 14 6c 16 Vesey St. 



LOVELL’S library:-catalogue. 


113. 

114, 

115. 

116, 
iir. 
118. 

119. 

120 . 
121 . 
122 . 
12.3, 

124. 

125. 

126. 

127. 

128. 

129. 

130. 

131. 

132. 

138. 


134. 

135. 

136. 

137. 

138. 

139. 

140. 

141. 

142. 

143. 

144. 

145. 

146. 

147. 

148. 

149. 

150. 

151. 

152. 

153. 

154. 

155. 

156. 

157. 

^ 58 . 

160 . 

161. 

162. 


More Words Abont the Bible, 

by Rev. Jas. S. Bush . .. .20 

Mousieur Lecoq, Gaboriau Pt. I. .20 

Monsieur Lecoq, Pt. II.... 20 

An Outline of Irish History, by 

Ju.stin II. McCarthy .......10 

The Lero iige Case, by Gaboriau. .20 
Paul Clifford, by Lord Lytton. . .20 
A New Lease of Life, by About. . 20 

Bourbon Lilies 20 

Other People's Money, Gaboriaa.20 
The Lady of Lyons, Lytton... 10 

Ameline de Bourg 15 

A Sea Queen, by W. Russell 20 

The Ladies Lindores, by Mrs. 

Ollphant 20 

Haunted Hearts, by Simpson. ...10 
Loys, Lord Beresrord, by The 

Duchess 20 

Under Two Flags, Ouida, Pt. I. . 15 

Under Two Flags, Pt. II ...15 

Money, by Lord Lytton 10 

In Peril of His Life, by Gaboriau.20 

India, by Max Miiller 20 

Jets and Flashes 20 

Moonshine and Marguerites, by 

The Duchess 10 

Mr. Scarborough’s Family, by 
Anthony Trollope, Part I . . . . . .15 
Mr. Scarborough's Family, Pt 11.15 
Arden, by A, Mary F. Robinson. 15 

The Tower of Percemont 20 

Yolande, by Wm. Black. ...... .20 

Cruel London, by Joseph Hatton. 20 
The Gilded Clique, ^ Gaboriau.20 
r kc County Folks, E. H. Mott. .20 

Cricket on the Hearth 10 

Henry Esmond, by Thackeray.. 20 
Strange Adventures of a Phae- 
ton, by Wm. Black 20 

Penis Duval, by Thackeray 10 

Old Curi'Dsity Snop,Dickens,Pt 1.15 
Old Curiosity Shop, Part II. . . .15 

Ivanhoe, by Scott, Parti 15 

Ivanhoe, by Scott, Part II 15 

White WinM, by Wm. Black.. 20 

The Sketch Book, by Irving 20 

Catherine, by W. UT. Thackeray. 10 
Janet’s Repentance, by Eliot — 10 
Barnaby Radge. Dickens, Pt 1..15 

Barnabv Rudge, Part II. 15 

Felix Kfolt, by George Eliot 20 

Richelieu, by Lord Lytton 10 

Sunrise, by Wm. Black, P^lrt I . . 15 
Sunrise, by Wm. Black Part 11.15 
Tour of the World in 80 Dayi5..20 
Mystery of Orcival, Gaboriau — 20 
Lovel, the Widower, by W. M, 

Thackeray.... .;. 10 

Romantic Adventures of a Milk- 
maid, by Thomas Hardy 10 

David Copporfleld, Dickens, Pt 1.20 

David Copperfleldi Part II 20 

Kienzi, by Lord Lytton, Part I . , 15 
Rienzi, by Lord Lytton. Part II. 15 
Promise of Marriage, Gaboriau. .10 
Faith and Unfaith, by -The 
Duchess ;.20 


163. The Happy Man, by Lover... 10 

164. Barry Lyndon, by Thackeray.... 20 

165. Eyre’s Acquittal. ...10 

166. Twenty Thousand Leagties Un- 

der the Sea, 1^ Jules Verne — 20 

167. Anti-Slavery Days, by James 

Freeman Clarke 20 

168f Beauty's Daughters, by The 

Duchess 20 

169. Beyond the Sunrise 20 

r.O. Hard Times, by Charles Dicken8.20 

171. Tom Cringle’s'Log, bvM. Scott. .20 

172. Vanity Fair, by W.M.Thackeray.20 

173. Underground Russia, Stepniak,.20 

174. Middlemarch, by Elliot, Ft I. ...20 

Middlemarch, Part II 20 

175 SirTom, by Mrs. Oliphant 20 

176 Pelham, by Lord Lytton. .... . .20 

177. The Story of Ida 10 

178. Madcap Violet, by Wm. Black., 20 

179. The Little Pilgrim 10 

180. Kilme y, by Wm. Black 20 

181. Whist, or iSumblepuppy? 10 

1S2. The Beautiful Wretch, Black.. ..20 

183. Her Mother's Sin, by B. M. Clay. 20 

184. Green Pastures and Piccadilly, 

by Wm, Black 20 

185. The Mysterious Island,by Jules < 

Verne, Part 1 15 

The Mysterious Island, Part II. . 15 
The Mysterious Island, Part 111.15 

186. Tom Brown at Oxford, Part I. . .15 
Tom Brown at Oxford, Part II. .15 

187. Thicker than Water, byJ. Payn.20 

188. In Silk Attire, by Wm. Black. ..20 

189. Scottish Chiefs.Jane Porter, Pt.I.20 

Scottish Chiefs, Part II 20 

190. Willy Keillyjby Will Carleton..20 

191. The Nautz Family, by Shelley .20 

192. Gi eat Expectations, by Dicken8.20 

193. Pendennis,by Thackeray, Part 1.20 
Pendennis,bj Thackeray, Part 11.20 

194. Widow Bedott Papers 20 

195. Daniel Deronda.Gcc Eliot,Pt. 1.20 

Daniel Deronda, Part II 20 

196. AltioraPeto, by Oiiphant ,.20 

197. By the Gate of the Sea, by David 

Christie Murray 15 

198. Tales of a Traveller, by Irving. . ,20 

199. Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

by Washington Irving, Part I. .20 
Life and Voyages of Columbus, 
by Washington Irving, Part 11.20 

200. The Pilgrim's Progress 20 

201. Martin Chuzzlewit, by Charles 

Dickens, Part I 20 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Part II 20 

202. Theophrastus Such, Geo. Eliot. . .20 

203. Disarmed, M. Betham-Edward8..15 
20 1. Eugene Aram, by Lord Lytton. 20 
205. The Spanish Gypsy and Other 

Poems, by George Eliot 20 

208. Cast Up by the Sea. Baker 20 

207. Mill on the Floss, Eliot. Pt. I. . .15 

Mill on the Floss, Part li 15 

208. Brother Jacob, and Mr. Gilfll’s ^ 

Love Story, by George Eliot. . . 10 
Wrecks in the Sea of Life JM) 


mils iSJ> mTirooc 



Vitalized Phos-phites 

COMPOSED OP THE NEHVE-OIVINQ PRINCIPLES OP 
THE OX-BRAIN AND WHEAT-OEBM. 


f 


It restores the energy lost by Nervousness or Indigestion ; relieves 
Lassitude and Neuralgia ; refreshes the nerves tired by worry, exoite- 
ment, or excessive brain fatigue ; strengthens a failing memory, and 

f fives renewed vigor in all diseases of Nervous Exhaustion or Debility, 
t is the only PREVENTIVE FOR CONSUMPTION. 

It aids XDonderfvlly in tlie menial and bodily groxeth of infants and 
eJiUdren, Under its use the teeth come easier, the ho^ groto better, the skin 
flumper and smoother; the brain acquires more readily, and rests and steeps 
more sweetly. An ill fed brain learns no lessons, and is excusable \f peevish. 
It gives a happier and better childhood, 

** It is with the utmost confidence that I recommend this excellent pre- 
paration for the relief of indigestion and for general debility; nay, Ido more 
than recommend, 1 really urge all invalids to put it to the test, for in sev- 
eral cases personally known to me signal benefits have been derived from 
its use. I have recently watched its effects on a young friend who has 
suffered from indigestion all her life. After tiding the Vitalized Phos- 
phites for a fortnight she said to me; * I feel another person; it is a pleas- 
ure to live.* Many hard-working men and women — especially those engas^ 
in brain work — would be saved from the fatal resort to culoral and otner 
destructive stimulants^ if they would have recourse to & remedy so simple 
and so efficacious.** 

Emily Faithpuli^ 

Physicians have prescribed oyer 600,000 Pace ages because they 
ENOW ITS Composition, that it is not a secret remedy, ajid 

THAT THE FORMULA IS PRINTED ON EVERY LABEl* 

For Sale bjr or t>E Ifall* 

F. CROSBT CO., 66i and 606 Siztli Avenuo, New Terk. 


! 







^ ^JT ^■V 

■ , -s/' ■/.. 


',t 


•.y-r ., < 


.• :tM 


>>• *■ 




V 


k T| 


*- I 




»• 




tw, 


>■/’ 

♦ » 

‘I- . 


' / 


T>#.-» 

I * 


*8 


. • r— I* \ . <_• 

'■ -^v ■ • • * • ' 


> f 


' ^ 


' "I 

►l 

> 


"V.: , • 


■ ,■!«'' v. 4 «' ■ 


1 • 


/ I 


> . 


^■ I** 


^ I 
» » 
•■ • 


k 


• X 

I 


f # 


• f ' - k 

'%V 4 


« { 


I t . 


/. 


“v. 


<" • 




• f ' » Jl '*■*/- 

• • < * * . . *r - A • V • 

« , ^ f 


'»k 

I 

\ 


U 


I 

• * 




g 


/ r 




• itf f' ^ ‘W ■ 


rWr •. 


\ 


, V 


- . r 








•t# ^ 


f - 


$ 


«./ 


^ 1 / 




I . 


-c- 

h 


■V 


•j.. 


.< i* » j «■' 

‘V.. ^ 


r: V 


• !_ 

\ ' 


'• ‘ 






^ 't 






V ’I • 


•■'•■ ''t v *•* v' Sk-J^-vtt I 

. , ^ ^ i ’ Vil r ' 

• I ■* ' 'l!& •*•■•■ 




■ft.- t- r-' 4 k A' 

®'- V' , • • i^Bil 


. V v-a: .'> , •a; :v.. 




‘ V*i' 


r 


. t 


I • ' y* 

■ j 1 '. 




V*- 






» • » > 
‘ v"-f ' 


I . r 


y.. 






i'sJcas 


» 4 



1 < f ^ » 








4 • '.‘/m »^:,. 




>. 




•» I 




• ^:* 


f t 



• ( 



• T'V-, 

. ^ ! -ii w'/ ; • * » 


j . ^ 


.v» • 


« " 




Hn ‘ • v‘ , -‘V .’fffVoi*** 

' '**» »iv i * 0 




f. * 


I * • -I- 


\ • 





'.' * , i 

* ' « 














J — ' ’ ‘■'1^, * ■ *. . 


•', ■ -r.'' 


»» « 


\A. 




i /■ 4vK- -SlptV 




( 


\ 


^ • ‘J » » ^ * i.', ‘ ' 

I '» V ' \ ' ' t 

i':- .•- 


f -« ji. j 


\, • v^v/ .^r^-iyj 


( I 


4 


t. 


fl 


S»SiA vVV 


‘ ' -. 
;j 6 . 






■'.V\' M- . 


^ • s 














V- ' .1 ^ . 


n! 




■ ■ •'* -Wi 




./ 


>•; V 


m 


. e -. 


S 




u: 


L-y I'-il 


Wn\ ' ■ ■*'• 


I r V F 






f.- 


V » 


/•* 


I.' 

' . . “'i/’V-,!-' w’*** :■ 

/ • :• *■"" »• V.. 


/ ; > 




/v 


' ■• • F « • ' * w' ' '*■• 

:'■ < ■/;■. .^'i M-*V ■ V*' ■ ' 





i 0 > 

• * 


• • 


t L'-- 


-.ivv 

^-•V' > ; 


s'" 


.< . 


. J -F 






^ » • I : 

^ ■'v»v 

' > 1C: ' 


> '• 


M . 




I I * ^ 


' W F 


• « 


li’ *< • 

iH 


. f '• / j ' 

•; - V,‘ •' .'- 

I I i« ^ j 




< <> 


k . 


. .*« 


• A 




•%'.* 




Vi.'* 

Fi;. T.*,,v, ‘ ^ 


• . • • 'Tl*' • 

. 'l .'»•• •. 




-7 


F ■ 




^ , 


.i'.j. 


V 


/ , ^ 



•.>v 

J 


^ ^ f 

♦ .• '. 


r e-i* 

. I 




> ’ * 


K % ’ * \ 

. , J'ff > i; 

7 i \ '>r-! v> 



-•'V- 


9 

\ t 


n 


ir 

■i*]Mtr‘' 




•4 , 




p 't "■ " ■ * * 



/Y 


* 

r* 











/V.^. -i. . ; > 


' T V ^ '** 






' ’* •* ' <- ^ 'i' 

•'?,/ 

, ' , '. •*** I 

■ ■ r / riri- ' ‘‘it 


W- 


. I’ 


:->y 





r ^ » 




V .^'^4 


• T 


’ *w/ h- ^ • ' ■• • ’ ' - 


■ -■ '■ *^ ■«' ■ “ Cc-’J 

■ - - 0 ■ • ;j^ 


‘•.y 


• 7 . 


,<r • t, 




t »• 


V.y-" 


—I ; , yr »•« vK . * 5 ., 

■ 3 . ■• •■ 

^■^ ■ TV-'V .. • ', 






V. 


V A f 
» 


mi ;■» '# 

m\ *' . ; I , ‘J . :/,(! '* < , 




•/ 




• a’ 


.‘i, 




« ■ 


« •.» 




V 








^ y-* /r^'Ts. 

X4.' 




"J 


- ** '■ : 


A 


' .V 


.\ 

*■ - - I ' ■ 

m i- A , 






,1 


i'r 





, VV 


-j 


1 « ^ f ^ » 

I 


ii?' 


« Tt . 




«l 




,»/ 


t. ■•;. :-X*-v^ 

' * - ■.* .'■’A- 




>-y 




.*v 


ff V 




\.- 




i 


• ' 








‘7? 


■ » 




// 


j* • 


V 


•j k 


V 'V 


r r.->, 


A ■* 


L • > 


w.’ /-m 

■ %T • 


^’■_ 


.11! 


4 -*r f 


r» * 

K 


Sjywy 




;c* ■ v^ ST^^' 

-V W'.'v''- ; I • ■ ' rifiS 

^ •. •••>'■■;'• , ' ■' v" . ■ ..; 'M 

■ r. ,-. ' 






fv- -J 


>> 


Uj 


rio 


' . r * » 4 ." A 


• ■I »i 


-I 

.'i A ■ <• A '^.,. 

A- ' A ^ 4 


.r S 






iit. 


■' v' ■ ’■■ ’ 

".;^K Vf -:; 


\ ■ 


■m 


*r 


ii 


* 


.V- 


I « 


' |r > 






• > • 


i i> 


r^N- 


^ ' 


V f' ;v 5 - 

fl« 


I • *. 


I -. ij 


_ • 




L '.A . ' 

! , V , 1 
VV I I - • , 

«■’- '%? ■ _ fPtm 





mm-^y:.^m* 

'■■>»;-, "i- 

^•1 •. 






’ V,- 

• . >A? 

SES .t" ■ ••, 


\ Jn'.' 

J 

• *• 


lA\ 


'»( ■» 


. ?p 


N. 






V * '' ur ^ 

. -^vA ; •• ',• A- , v->.- 

waifS,?*! 






'rfi/ 




V ' .■’ 


I .• 


•» * * 

* <L *i < 

• ► • A' ■ 

♦ ^ J M 


V 


« 


gyf 


'i: 


< 




# . 



V'-Vv:*!:’ 

* J > * J 4 _/ 


A 

i V 
.f »*: 


r 4 

^ < 


4 *-. . ■* * . 
























;UWi 

\ 

1 



u. ..' , 


iww/WgJ^iw 
















^QHfl 













LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



□□0B317TT1A 




